


Potential Reached

by smolder



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 34,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolder/pseuds/smolder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She has Potential her mother had once whispered – those silver eyes, identical to her own, solemn and impossibly deep with pain and secrets; secrets Luna knew never to ask about."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> Warnings/Spoilers: Somewhat graphic cannon character death.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

She is an early bloomer, as these sorts of things go, she learns later. But that is hardly important to her because even at eleven she can feel the changing times like tide rising and a part of her always knew this day would come. Has been aware that she is different from even the other magical children her age on a very fundamental level – of what she can hear, see, and feel. Has been _feeling_ so much for so long.  
  
She has _Potential_ her mother had once whispered years ago – those silver eyes, identical to her own, solemn and impossibly deep with pain and secrets; secrets Luna always knew _never_ to ask about. Knew sometimes history was just spilt blood ( _it’s always about the blood_ ) and the sting of the past never truly forgotten - and to live at all was to pretend. Pretend to forget. Pretend it didn’t hurt to smile and laugh. Pretend so hard until the world bent around you, cocooned in lies repeated so many times they feel like truth on the tongue.  
  
Because they both had played this game, would smile bright and laugh too loud. Because back then, as the mother tucked in her little girl they knew what the night would bring – what it brought every night.  
  
Dreams, nightmares really. Women, girls truly. Living but mostly dying. And always fighting.  
  
Death was their gift. And Luna watched them give it night after night as she grew.  
  
But she grew too comfortable perhaps, got over her fear and developed a fascination and sort of imaginary friendship with certain girls. Luna, did not expect the Powers next move to be so cruel. With her nights full of Death they decided to take her day. And she had not prepared herself for them to drive the point of her destiny home by having her Mother slip away in her arms when she was nine years old. A simple accident while experimenting with the Floo (for the Mother had gotten complacent too, become trusting of this wand magic that never quite fit right with the bit of wildness buried within her) while she was forced to watch, so utterly helpless.  
  
And Luna did not understand then. How could this be her Gift? How could this be anyone’s Gift?  
  
Their eyes connected and with half of the face she knew far better than her own burnt she could still easily read from the eyes how scared and desperate her mother was, Mommy so strong and smart who always held her – who always smiled and sang whenever she was frightened. Luna held her hand and started to sing for her now, hoping so hard it would help.  
  
But that coldness reached for her anyway, she could see the panic in that gaze, and although Mommy was fighting it as hard as she could. ( _Oh, please. Please. Please. No, not Mommy._ ) Her hand slackened in Luna’s grip.  
  
And this was a fight they couldn’t win.  
  
Luna stopped singing, closed her eyes and very carefully laid down, cuddling against her mother’s body, ignoring the blood and smell of burnt flesh. As she lay there in the stillness it was not silent, at least not within her head. For the Powers might take but the women would shelter their own – as well they could – to lessen the blow to this child, that was destined to receive so many more. And all of those of whom she dreamt rose up before her mind’s eye.  
  
So many, some hollow eyed and still covered in blood from their last stands, placed their hands upon her. And although there was sadness, anger at the world, and a wish to comfort one faced with loss so young, in each touch….there was a feeling of heavy inevitability. This was always going to happen. There was no escaping it.  
  
Death.  
  
It had been in her Mother’s blood. It was in hers as well.  
  
And with each touch in her mind, and each hour that went by as they stayed with her as she lay there long after her Mother’s body had started to cool Luna began to feel understanding seep into her. She would not hide from it as her Mother had, would not fight this precious blood passed down – now spread out like a rain puddle surrounding them on the floor, soaking through her clothing. If Death was the inevitability either way, she would be as she was. Wholly. If her Potential became more, if she was Chosen, she would use that Gift.  
  
Death was inescapable, those voices resonated more by the very magnitude of their presence than any actual words. But…it was their Gift. And again she saw flashes of them fighting – horrible horrible things and had the understanding in her mind of the stakes they were up against. The always present Dark, The Evil.  
  
Death was their Gift. And they would _always die_ but they would go in a blaze, a clash of steal so sharp and bright, they would go happily with eye’s wide open and a feral smile if they knew they would take down their Evil with them. Keep the balance tilted safely on the side of Light.  
  
Slowly, slowly Luna began to understand.  
  
Began to accept this Gift, this Death.


	2. Prologue: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> Warnings/Spoilers: Somewhat graphic cannon character death.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

  
It was three hours later that Xeno Lovegood walked through the door to his home from a normal day at his paper and into a very changed life.  
  
“Death took her, Daddy,” Luna whispered when he just stared, frozen, at the macabre scene in front of the fire place and he jumps a bit at the sound. Before she had spoken he had been afraid both bodies lying on the floor where dead, that he had lost his whole world today. “Snatched her away. No, that’s not right,” she corrected herself, sitting up she looked at him but his eyes caught on the dried blood all across the right side of her face, all over her clothing as well – his _wife’s blood_. “Mommy fought it, it _hurt_ her,” she continued, still whispering her voice sounding hoarse. “Mommy was fighting so hard, I couldn’t leave her alone with It…I couldn’t….” she trailed off. But he was enthralled by the blood. There was too much of it (it was all over Luna), surely it couldn’t be real. That wasn’t his wife on the ground, his lovely strong Selene. She couldn’t be, couldn’t be….  
  
“ _Daddy_ …...,” Luna said more a plea than a word and instantly his attention went to her – this was real, horrifyingly real, and his little girl needed him ( _and he needed her_ ). He walked over and picked her up off the floor, out of the puddle of congealed blood, and pulled her into his arms, turning his back to the body. He couldn’t be as brave as his daughter right now, couldn’t look at her (right behind them) and keep anywhere near sane, he just couldn’t.  
  
“I know,” he petted her hair, swallowing hard as his fingers caught on the matted bits.  
  
“ _Daddy_ ,” she cried again, this time it was caught in a sob. And he closed his eyes and just held her closer.  
  
“I know,” he choked, and they held each other and they cried. Because even when Death is known, when it is prepared for and expected – it is still hard, still wrenching and painful. And Xeno _had_ expected this, perhaps not today and perhaps not like _this_ but he knew that every day since he met her ( _He, fresh out of Hogwarts, hunting down a lead on some group called “Watchers” for the Quibbler and she at the Council Headquarters with her current Watcher - the latest in a line that she had been handed off to since she was taken as a child - and wanting desperately to escape their grip, wanting a life._  
  
 _She had told him everything, Selene knew she shouldn’t but she did anyway; she was just so tired. He had been horrified and to her surprise offered the chance to run and to her even greater surprise she had taken it. He had hidden her then, incredibly well. Even after she had seen him do his type of magic she hadn’t believed at first that this would ever work. But paranoia of authority was ingrained amongst the Lovegoods for generations and for her he bumped it up even higher; under Xeno’s wards she would never be found._  
  
 _As months went by they figured out that with her magical core Selene could use a wand and with such a wand procured on the sly from a distant family member who just happened to be a renowned wand maker, his old textbooks, and infinite patience, he taught her how. Along with all of the other little things she would need to pass as a normal witch in the Wizarding World._  
  
 _Friendship had come almost the moment an eccentrically dressed young man with slightly crossed eyes flopped down on a park bench next to a beautiful ash blonde young woman and smiled disarmingly. He asked to interview her and she bit her lip for a moment, looking at him through her lashes, before taking a deep breathe, pulling her shoulders back and saying ‘yes’._  
  
 _Love – well, love, their awareness to it anyway, had come slowly. But by the time it did they were already best friends and so essential to each other, that it didn’t seem that new, that scary a step. It seemed more obvious than anything else; who else would have been so perfect for them?_ ) had been borrowed time.  
  
Borrowed time that was now over it seemed.  
  
He bit his lip and held his daughter tighter (and tried not to think - at least not in this moment - of his daughters similar future).


	3. Chapter One: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

  
  
Chapter One: Luna’s First Year of Hogwarts - In Which There is a Rather Large Snake  
  
  
Part One  
  
  
Luna sometimes wondered if other eleven year olds pondered the nature of truth as much as she did. She rather thought they didn’t from the conversations she often overheard (enhanced hearing and the fact that people tended to ignore her presence meant she was quite aware of a lot of castle gossip) but, then again, that might be an unfair.  
  
Everyone had the right to their own secrets.   
  
“ _Present_ ,” she hummed in a sing-song tone, kicking her legs back and forth on her Potions stool and then letting her gaze skirt over Professor Snape’s shoulder, following a particular dust mote’s journey ( _and avoiding making eye contact at the same time; Father had warned her about skills some witches and wizards had learned during wartime and Lovegood's were always careful_ ). She felt him stare at her a moment longer before, in the corner of her eye, she saw him look down at his roster, muter her surname again with a half disgusted, half defeated sigh, and simply move on to the next student.  
  
She would not _lie_ ; but, then again, it seemed that she did not have to. None of her teachers or fellow students ever looked upon her and saw anything deeper in her vacant gaze, thought her manner anything other than “Loony”-ness, part of the typical Lovegood heritage ( _and the Sorting Hat seemed to enjoy keeping secrets_ ). And perhaps that omission, her allowance for people to continue to think of her a certain way, should be considered a lie by itself, but it was hard for Luna to think so with the way she had grown up - with so many things _understood_ and not explicitly said.  
  
It was just so very hard to balance her ingrained need to shield herself (always encouraged – sometimes silently sometimes with intense volume – by the sisters in her head) with the necessity to tell the truth that had always been a part of her.  
  
Because it had gotten worse this year.  
  
Luna had woken up the morning she was to ride upon the Hogwarts Express thrumming with a different sort of energy – more than the simple anticipation of a new school - for she had been _Chosen_.  
  
There had been a whirlwind in her mind then. Her emotions and thoughts tangled with those of so many previous Slayers - a line of women she was now a part of.  
  
“Too young. Oh, Gods, she is _far_ too young. She’s going to die young too,” Hazel, the one that always dressed in stiff, Victorian high-necked dresses, had been screaming mournfully. Before another sister Slayer, Luyu, had tackled her, none to gently, to put a hand over her mouth and shut her up.  
  
“You’re strong now. One of us, Little Sister,” another had said with rough grin that didn’t have quite all of it’s teeth. Disa held her two-handed, vikings style sword, easily resting it upon her shoulder.  
  
“Death. Death, is your gift,” the First Slayer muttered grimly in the corner. ( _But she always said that so Luna didn’t take it personally._ )  
  
“ _Please_ ,” Luna said out loud, staring at her bedroom ceiling, “would you all be quite for a few minutes. It is just that it has become awful hard to think. I still have to get ready to go off to Hogwarts and I haven’t told Daddy about this yet.”  
  
And they quieted right away– she rather suspected it was more because she mentioned _Daddy_ than Hogwarts. Many of them didn’t really understand the need for her to go ( _to any school_ ) but they all loved her Father. Adored him ( _with a rather harsh longing that was painful at times - most Slayers having been removed from their families very early and the closest thing they subsequently had - a Watcher - was not quiet the same. Seemed to Luna, a term for a series of men - a symbol of oppression, comfort, power, and knowledge - both loved and hated in turn_ ) for how kindly he had treated two of their own.  
  
So, Luna had gotten dressed as she often did - in clothes that made her grin when she saw them – it was the only way she knew how, having never really gotten the hang of matching. (That day choosing a dress with a print of little dancing bats, socks with rainbow stripes, and lastly pulled on her lucky butterbeer cap necklace.) Double checked the trunk she had carefully packed the night before - and had then taken a deep breath, opened her bedroom door and skipped downstairs to greet her Father; tell him a bit of news over breakfast.  
  
 _Good luck_ , she had heard an almost chorus of whispers and Luna felt a smile grow over her face and her shoulders pull back. ( _Never alone, she was never alone._ )  
  
But she feels it a bit at Hogworts. Lonely, that is.  
  
She knew that many often found her strange – her entire House of Ravens certainly does. Lovegood’s in general always seemed to have this problem. But, the thing is, Luna had thought _Ginny_ at least would be a steady friend in this new place. She worries that she was mistake though, because although the youngest Weasley seemed to attempt to keep up their relationship early on ( _sitting beside her on the train and reaching out in line to give her hand a squeeze before Luna made her way up to be Sorted_ ) the distance between them is growing.  
  
Her sister-Slayers murmur gently to her as she curls up in bed a few hours before daybreak that this is normal, that they are _built_ to be alone. Gloomy Hazel (who reminds her a bit of Myrtle now) moans that she will probably die soon anyway and someone else slaps her.  
  
 _Was it because they were in different Houses?_ Luna hadn't thought Ginny was the sort to care about such things, had always been stubborn and hard-fast in defense of her friends. _Was it because of how busy they often were – learning all of this new theory and wandwork?_   
  
But Luna doubted that as well - because she was even _more_ busy than her peers since she always snuck out after dark too – curling her body into the shadows of the castle ( _pausing at times because there are the sounds of strange slithering movement in the walls - but perhaps that was just how it was at Hogwarts, she would never claim to understand the magic of this place. To know all the creatures that make it their home_ ) until she breathed the night air. Then she would lope sure and strong into the Dark Forest.  
  
She felt at ease there – _so_ much more than within the pressing stone walls. Had been welcomed thoroughly as well – the various inhabitants approaching and introducing themselves to her, seeming to know instinctively what she was and having respect for it. She first explored, then later set up a patrol – and had even become a bit of a mediator between some of the more _argumentative_ species.  
  
Luna loved her nights; would often let out a happy sigh of relief as she found herself joined as soon as she entered the woods by a thestral trotting at her side. Would have a contented grin on her face as she ended her round of the forest, lying on the hood of a what seemed to be a slightly sentient car (that she was sure once belonged to the Weasley’s) staring at the stars and discussing philosophy with the centaurs. ( _As well as gossiping about both castle and forest life - between the two she gets a rather clearer picture of Tom Riddle and the Chamber of Secrets than she thinks she were she to have only captured half of this elusive pair_ ).  
  
The centaurs had even begun to teach her - and astronomy is only the beginning. Luna is very grateful for this ( _for she knows well how they often view humans - but, then again, she is not quite human_ ) – she has this strength now, these senses, that are much more heightened than before. Luna had not quite understood when she was young the huge difference between the two words; only that Mother and her were different from others - even _Daddy_. She had no way of understanding then the startling jump between _Potential_ and _Chosen_.  
  
The freely shared memories of her sisters supplement her knowledge as she learns – sliding in suggested fighting styles or whispering techniques in ways to twist, flip, throw, hit, duck and block – but without testing it with her own body ( _sometimes a very different size and shape than the Slayer from whose point of view she witnessed_ ) Luna would not know for sure how to use it properly. She is also delighted by the lessons she receives from her non-speaking friends: hippogriffs, unicorns, and the thestral who has become her confidant away from home (after many tossed out suggestions, they have both settled on the name of Glinda) all take turns teaching her as well. She needs all the help she can get; Professor Lockheart, who she had thought was supposed to help educate her in such defense, has proven to be severely lacking in anything other than teeth shininess.  
  
She finds much of Hogwarts lacking truthfully. And it is only there that those bits of loneliness creep in. That she sees the familiar red head girl she was once close with across the crowded Great Hall and can nothing but look back down and poke at her oatmeal sadly. Ginny does not seem herself, but how can she really tell? It has been so long since they have interacted. For, Luna might be a Slayer ( _might feel anger and bubbling frustration at herself because of those people in the infirmary - as well as Mrs. Norris and Nearly Headless Nick - all stiff as a board. She had failed to save them, protect them - wasn't that her job after all? What good is she_ ), but she is still an eleven year old girl and was confused at how to deal with such emotional tangles as friends who seemed to be avoiding her.  
  
 _Did Ginny simply not like her anymore?_  
  
This troubled her dearly because Ginny had been her closest friend, outside the confines of her head, for as long as she could remember. She had gotten angry on Luna’s behalf on many of occasions – yelling at other children (or even her own siblings) when they made fun of her. Had stayed glued to her side during Mother’s funeral and bawled while Luna had stayed dry-eyed, her own tears all wrung out by then, the only sign of her emotion her too tight grip – but Ginny hadn't complained, only hugged her side tighter too.  
  
There had been so many long summer days (that tumbled seamlessly into the next with sleepovers at each others’ houses) where they would run off together around Ottery St. Catchpole and make up elaborate imaginary worlds - building and building upon them. Ginny never mocked her when she would weave in some of the more fantastical beasts and she would never tease when the Prince that lived in that castle yonder ( _that looked suspiciously like a tree up close_ ) happened to be named ‘Harry’.  
  
 _Was that all over? Was her life to be just training and the hunt? Her joy to come from the feel of the blood pumping in her veins as she fought?_  
  
The voices in her head were silent and Luna pushed her bowl of oatmeal away from her having lost her appetite.


	4. Chapter One: Parts Two & Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

  
  
Luna’s First Year of Hogwarts - In Which There is a Rather Large Snake  
  
  
Part Two  
  
  
  
It was a few days later that she got her true answer. She had uncharacteristically fallen asleep early (especially given the troubling atmosphere in both the forest and school), pulled under by a dream, ( _that wasn't really a dream_ ).  
  
"Oh," she whispers, when her eyes open, aware of the other First Year Ravenclaws sleeping in the room. "Why didn’t you tell me earlier?" and everyone in her mind is well aware of the mental grief she has gone through over this, can read her frustration. The other Slayers murmur back: some apologetic, others simply angry at the Powers. “That I understand,” Luna sighs and quickly rolls out of bed, glad she was still dressed and only has to find her shoes before she makes her way to Gwen's - no _Myrtle's_ bathroom ( _their is a high class sniff of disdain at her mental slip up but at least the Victorian Slayer isn't suggesting that everyone is going to die again_ ).  
  
The vision had been stark, static images like flash cards paired with the impression of impending doom. Pipes in the walls leading to a familiar loo - looking quite different now because of a large tunnel opening where the sinks once were. A giant snake with long fangs. And then - last, staying sharp in her mind - Ginny lying in a cavernous, damp room, with an older boy standing over her, becoming more solid as she became less so.  
  
Shoes on, Luna ran.  
  
  
***  
  
She skids to a halt in front of the bathroom door just in time to hold it open for a large, brightly plumed bird.  
  
"Hullo there," she says to the the phoenix as they both size each other up, testing the other's aura. "Would you mind giving me a lift? I think we're going the same way," Luna gestures to the entrance of the Chamber. Before any response can be made to her request the bit of fabric clutched in it's claws pipes up.  
  
“Oh, pick her up already, you big ole firey lug. Can’t you tell that’s, the _Slayer_?”  
  
The bird in question gave an exaggerated huff but it didn’t seem to be directed at Luna (and he seemed at least a little bit charmed by her curtsy of thanks - if the sound like a trill of laughter was any indication) and easily made a loop around the bathroom that ended with swooping down to to grasp her shoulders (in a surprisingly gentle grip) and fly into the tunnel.   
  
Half way down into the dark, her eyes registered a flash of light and she felt the peculiar pull of non-human magic Apparition. Once she was speeding through the air again, Luna shook off the feeling, turned and smiled at her traveling companion. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you Mr. Sorting Hat, sir. I would have certainly greeted you as well if I did.”  
  
It simply chuckled, delighted by the small talk, “I know you would have, Luna. How has hunting been?”  
  
She grinned and leaned her head closer to whisper conspiratorially, her expression surprisingly sharp and not at all her usual dreamy one, “I suspect, my dear hat, that it will be quite good this night. I find myself rather motivated to decapitate a snake.”  
  
And with that she pulled her blue and bronze tie off, wrapped it about her eyes tightly, touched Fawkes leg lightly (indicating that she would like to be let down), gave a mighty battle cry (that echoed and hopefully confused the creature - and everyone else a bit), and with blood pumping, she threw herself into the fight.  
  
  
***  
  
It is not an easy fight (and Luna is dreadfully grateful for Harry and Mr. Hat for working together to procure the Sword of Gryffindor - which certainly helped a great deal. She really needs to find a way to get weapons for herself at Hogwarts next year) but it all shakes out in the end. They are alive ( _excluding the basilisk, which she did be-head with a grim sort of happiness. And the apparition of Tom Riddle that Harry took care of, stabbing the diary multiple times with the venomous tooth - seemingly, taking much catharsis from it_ ), if not altogether whole. There are two people staring at her now, but one matters to her a lot more at the moment.  
  
“Harry, you said Ron was still a ways back with the Professor? Let Fawkes lead you to them and then fly you out," she looked over at the phoenix for conformation and got a nod in return. "He can come back for Ginny and I in a bit,” she finished not even looking up at him, her hand squeezing her best friend's, their eyes locking.  
  
“But –“ he started to argue, the tones of his voice so worried.  
  
And it is Ginny, her dear strong Ginerva – the only true human friend she has ever had, broken in so many pieces and barely holding herself together now, who turns and smiles comfortingly (and they all pretend not to notice how it wavers at the edges) at him. Who looks up at the boy she has hero-worshiped her whole life and says quietly, “We’ll be alright, Harry.” Luna squeezes her hand back tightly as she watches him leave with the great bird and the Sorting Hat, let’s that bit of her little girl self go with him.  
  
But then again there is not much of her little girl self left now.  
  
It is indeed a much older girl than her familiar Ottery St. Catchpole playmate, who looks at her through those brown eyes when she turns back around - but that is alright because Luna has _always_ been an old soul, even long before she was Chosen. And although a part of her might be saddened by this loss of innocence in her friend, it is a very small part of her. _Inevitable._ That has been the word whispered in her mind for as long as she can remember, a drumbeat like mantra, until it feels like her very heart some days. Everyone will get this look eventually in these coming days of blood shed and rising tides of Dark.  
  
( _Although she feels perhaps there is something particular to Ginny, what happened to her. How she was tricked, how she was used, how her life force was siphoned off bit by bit. That will always leave a mark, Luna thinks, perhaps not magical – per se – but in who her friend is from now on. After all, Luna knows full well how large of an impact traumatic events can have on a person’s formation. Still remembers exactly the look of utter panic and then calm acceptance that had settled over her Mother’s face in those final moments._ )  
  
The key is to make sure she doesn’t drown in it. And Luna thinks she knows how. There has been a loss of balance between them. Ginny’s secret, the thing that she has been keeping from Luna all year (although now she now knows it was not really her fault) has been spread all about in the open. Spilled milk. And there might be tears but Luna will refill the glass.  
  
After all, there have been things she has not told Ginny, too.  
  
Ginny stares at her with overly clear eyes, a sharp brittle, desperate look – disenchanted with this world she now knows the Darkness in the shadows of so intimately. Luna sets the Sword of Gryffindor, she had still been holding with her free hand, down gently and then pulls her friend down to the floor as well, hugging her tightly. The dead basilisk is only feet away but Ginny doesn’t resist in the slightest and is soon sobbing on her shoulder.  
  
She coos, sings, and rocks her. As Ginny begins to quiet Luna whispers to her a story - fascinating, terrible story that makes the other girl forget everything for a few moments, makes her almost forget to breathe.  
  
Still rocking her like a child, Luna whispers in her ear, lilting dreamy voice weaving a tale of a being called The First Slayer.  
  
  
  
Part Three  
  
  
  
She had to hand it to him, Harry held out quite a while to talk about it with her. That might have also been because the train ride was the first chance they had to speak alone – or as close to alone as was possible. The sleeping figures of Hermione, Ron, and two Weasley’s might be pushing that word a bit.  
  
“I didn’t tell Dumbledore,” he whispered to her feverishly, his voice pitched low and eyes wide behind his glasses. She turned from looking out the window at the landscape streaking by; Ginny, lying now with her head in Luna’s lap tensed at this but she just squeezed her arm and let the red head continue to pretend to sleep. Rest had been elusive prey for her best friend lately.  
  
In response to Harry, Luna just raised one pale eyebrow.  
  
He flushed, eyes darting around, and leaned forward a bit. “About the Chamber,” he said lowly gaze falling on Ginny but, expecting this at some point – at used to playing possum in a large family - she didn’t even twitch.  
  
“It’s alright, Harry,” Luna murmured just as quietly.  
  
“It’s _not_ ,” he exclaimed, jumping at the sound of his own voice than looking around guiltily at the rest of the people in their train car, making sure they hadn’t woken. “It’s not,” he repeated, much quieter, looking straight into her eyes plaintively. “They all think _I_ did it, Luna. The _whole school_. And I _didn’t_ – I saw you lop off the head of a giant snake while _blindfolded_ with your school tie - it was _insane_. It’s not right that people look at me the way they do, like I'm some sort of _hero_ or something.”  
  
“Harry,” she begins carefully, trying not to smile - she must act serious if she was to make him understand, ( _And also not correct him about the little things he was leaving out. It just wasn’t the time to bring up how it definitely hadn’t only been her - Fawkes had been very helpful darting around its head acing as distraction the entire time. And in the end there had been less lopping and quite a bit more sawing; that basilisk had had a thick neck. Or even the fact that Harry seemed to neatly forget that it had been he who had dealt the final blow in their little battle - piercing Tom Riddle’s diary with the basilisk’s fang and thereby freeing Ginny. Later perhaps, she would bring it up, over some pudding. Everyone liked pudding._ ), “why didn’t you tell Dumbledore?”  
  
He looked down a moment before answering. “You’re _different_ ,” he said slowly. “And I’ve seen how that can turn out bad. If I had had a choice I wouldn’t want anyone to know. To treat me any different. It would make things so much _easier_ ,” he said the last part almost to himself. Than his eyes widened as he realized he at answered his own question.  
  
“Yes, Harry,” Luna agreed simply, a small smile on her face. And as the train rolled on the silence became comfortable and Ginny actually did fall asleep - deep and untroubled for once with her two heroes there to keep watch over her dreams.


	5. Chapter Two: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

Luna’s Second Year: In Which Men are Dogs – But Only in the Most Literal Sense   
  
  
Part One   
  
  


Luna can’t say it was an _easy_ summer – that word doesn’t quite fit the mood that surrounded everything. There was no ease.   
  
Her Father was not pleased when she told him what had happened in the Chamber. He understood ( _with a sad, helpless, sort of look in his eyes as he clutched her hands tight that made her feel sorrow as well. Made her wish to be careful, train harder. For him. Because Father did not deserve more loss; truly might not be able to handle more loss_ ) and had researched the Slayer both before and after he met her Mother. He was aware of what it meant for her to have this blood in her veins, that he could not stop her, that it was a life she would always be was pulled to live ( _until she was no longer doing so_ ) - but that did not mean he would ever _like_ it, would ever have wished it for his dear Moon-daughter who was not even a teenager yet.   
  
But that was not to say that the summer had gone poorly either. Instead of going away on expedition, her Father seemed to want desperately to keep her close ( _and she understood this, had many sisters in her mind echoing the sentiment. Holding that distant fractured, story-book idea, of family so close and dear_ ). They split their time between home and working on the paper at the Quibbler office building. Spending long hours laughing over making brunch in their kitchen or getting sunburns trying to make heads or kneazle tail's over their, always overflowing garden that had once been Mum’s domain.  
  
In the evenings she tended to write letters – Ginny was off with her family in Egypt and Luna was happy for this, the change of scenery seemed a wonderful distraction for her friend. Her return letters were full of talk of wide deserts with sloping dunes, pyramids, tombs filled with intricate wall paintings, and the heavy heat. ( _Only near the end did she ever speak of her nightmares, an afterthought almost, overwhelmed by all this wonder. And that was more than alright with Luna._ )  
  
She attempted to write Harry multiple times as well but he never responded. Luna wasn’t quite sure why this would be – post owls were incredibly smart creatures – unless of course he was simply busy. Perhaps, living in the Muggle World he had access to classes or training of a sort that occupied much of his time.  
  
It was that actually, that she was missing - training. Being able to run off into the Forest and patrol, to train with the centuars - she misses Glinda and all of the other friends she made last year rather badly ( _hopes they are all alright_ ). And by the time her letter comes again this year, Luna is starting to get a bit edgy.  
  
Her Father picks up on this and allows her some independence - simply giving her money and setting her lose on Diagon Alley to gather school things on her own while he works that day in the office ( _the Stubby Boardman story is getting quite a lot of reaction from readers_ ). And it is when she is mostly finished ( _only a new quill and perhaps a look at some trunks with hidden compartments – access to weapons could be useful_ ) that she encountered Harry.  
  
He is staying at the Leaky Cauldron it seems and after sending off a quick Owl ( _Hedwig is such a beautiful creature_ ) to Father she had a lovely lunch with him ( _and was able to get him to eat that bowl of pudding with her after all_ ). He seemed on the outs with his relatives and rather soured when she mentioned the fact that she had tried to write him – muttering something about a Dobby, or something called a dobby.  
  
Luna believes she cheered him up by filling him all of the latest news from the Quibbler though. He even laughed out loud a few times – seemingly instantly apologetic afterwards. She had only smiled, leaning forward and placing a hand upon his arm, “It is alright, Harry – I know that my Father’s work is different. And the surprise of that can be quite funny. We often laugh when we make discoveries, laughter is an amazing thing. It feels good, doesn't it?”   
  
He had blinked, looking a bit uncomfortable, and pushed those round glasses up his nose - but, after that, he had laughed more freely. She thinks that is a good thing; Luna never paid much attention to Harry before their lives collided last year, but since he has come into her orbit she has noticed how very serious he tends to be.  
  
Just because you are "chosen" - whether Slayer or Boy Who Lived - doesn’t mean you have to let it weigh heavily upon you after all. ( _A few of her sister Slayers smile at this, some shake their heads – think her young. Luna thinks perhaps it is simply because she is a Lovegood._ )   
  
All, in all though - despite the tearful goodbye she shares with her Father, it is with a sense of relief that she starts the new school year. Ginny and her meet at the train station with big hugs and the red-head speaking faster than a mermaid swims as they walk together to find a seat.   
  
Later, as she is walking back to her cabin from the bathroom she is still feeling rather content, light and hopeful; and a smile does not seem to want to leave her.   
  
And it is, of course, then that it happens – when her senses start screaming to her (allowing her to brace against the wall) seconds before the train screeches roughly to a halt.   
  
And then the cold, the shadows, the darkness.  
  
The _sadness_. She starts to feel swamped, she sees her mother with face half gone, feels the blood on her skin, smells the burnt flesh, hears herself singing desperately. ( _Oh Merlin, not again. Mommy. Please don’t leave me._ ) But of course she knows what is going to happen, she has seen this before and - again, again her mother dies before her eyes.  
  
But instead of the coldness this time she is angry. So very very angry. The boiling fury multiples as the many within her head take the emotion and intertwine it with their own sense of protectiveness, heightening it to a feeling of wrath she is not used to. Luna lets it happen though – because _how dare_ something take this memory of her mother and use it like that. Hot pure rage burns away the grief leaving her eyes clear and allows her to return to consciousness on the hallway floor where she can see the _thing_ hovering over her.  
  
 _Dementor_ something in her brain whispers, knowledge she has read at some point shaking loose.   
  
_Demon_ her sisters insist.  
  
 _Slay_ they all agree.   
  
Luna grins, more barred teeth then a smile, and a low growl comes from somewhere deep in her throat causing the outstretched hand to hesitate – and that is the only warning before she pounces.  
  
She has no weapons but it barely matters and her wand – _magic_ – never even crossed her mind. Because right now she is _Slayer_ , purely. And the dementor is her _prey_ and sad prey at that, without its mind magic affecting her ( _too far gone in this need to destroy. Slay. She is Slayer and there is a demon in front of her - a demon that attacked her; her blood calls for justice. The Powers care little of joy or sadness, it factors little into her Calling_ ) it is little more than a cloak and bones. And she will bite and rip, and smash and break. When she is done there will be _nothing_ left.  
  
She does not know how long it takes but sometime later her dark corridor is flooded with a single light and she feels another presence – another _inhuman_ presence. She turns her head sharply, senses still ringing, body tensed and the man holding the wand takes a step back at her gaze.  
  
“Miss,” he says and then clears his throat nervously, as she continues to stare unblinkingly. “Are you alright, Miss?” he asks.  
  
Then he looks around the corridor, a bit wide eyed - there is bone fragment and piece of fabric scattered about. “Was that a _dementor_?” he asks his tone disbelieving. But it is quickly followed by worry and he scans her for injuries as one hand seems to pat down his pockets for something. “Were you attacked? Are you alright?”  
  
“It _was_ a dementor,” she agrees, stressing the past tense just a bit feeling laconic and pleased, post fight. He pauses his self-pat down at that, studying her. And she watches him right back, she likes his face she thinks as her eyes trace the scars, and she wonders how many she will accumulate before she dies.   
  
The man blinks first, going back to searching his pockets. He makes a triumphant noise when he finds some chocolate – handing it to her, she takes it but does not make any further move. “It will make you feel better,” he assures her.  
  
But still she stares at him. (Testing his aura against hers although she isn’t sure if he is aware. It’s nice she decides. _He’s_ nice. He’ll not hurt her - at least never on purpose.)  
  
Finally she blinks, turning the chocolate over in her hand, before stepping closer to him and leaning in. “I’m not supposed to take candy from strangers,” she whispers to him conspiratorially as if telling a secret, the man’s lips twitch as if he is trying not to smile. Luna doesn’t know why he doesn’t - it is always nice to smile after all.  
  
“I’m, Remus Lupin - the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor,” he introduces himself formally, holding out a hand to shake. And she does, not showing when the voices in her head all chime in to confirm – _werewolf_ – at the touch. It’s not as if it matters. Her earlier assessment stands.  
  
Instead she let’s go of his hand and grins at him; says, “Won’t that make things interesting.” A statement not a question.  
  
Indeed, it is her new Professor who is the one to look at her uneasily and ask, “Why?” As if he would rather not hear her answer.  
  
And so she laughs, her too loud, over long laugh. “Now that,” she says between giggles at the look on his face “would be telling.”  
  
He smiles at her then, half wary, half confused - and she walks away nibbling on the chocolate.


	6. Chapter Two: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

Luna’s Second Year: In Which Men are Dogs – But Only in the Most Literal Sense  
  
  
Part Two  
  
  
Hagrid might me a friend - or at least an ally, Luna decides as she easily picks up the axe ( _that probably weighs nearly as much as she does_ ) left outside his cabin, like an offering. She stands very still for a moment, only stray strands from her long, braided back, hair moving in the slight breeze, her eyes track the movements of dark cloaks, like shadows, in the distance, but they do not approach - the Dementors have avoided her since she killed the first one that attacked her (and she destroyed it).   
  
She moves then, loping into the woods, her hands curling tighter around the axe handle, and a grin blooms full upon her face as the shadows from the Forest seem to stretch out to greet her even before she slips easily among the trees. Once within the canopy she breathes deep, smelling the green, and then giggles when Glinda (her Thestral friend) headbuts her gently in greeting as they start their rounds and a Hipogriff soon joins, nipping at her heels making her jump into a run with a laugh.  
  
Professor Hagrid, unlike the others, she is pretty sure became aware of her nightly wanderings rather early last year. He gets along well with many of the peoples of the Forest and often will travel within - if he didn’t see her with his own two eyes, they might have very well simply told him in passing.  
  
But Luna feels little fear of being reprimanded by the man, so much larger than herself. Because, in many ways, he is very like her - not quite human. Of this wondrous school of magic, but very much _separate_ as well.  
  
They can sense each other she is sure - or at least she can very clearly feel the loud clashing Earth of the part of him, that ( _Disa, her Viking sister who was well used to the mountainous regions_ ) means giant and is relatively certain, from how others have reacted previously, that her Slayer-ness reads just as loud to those who can hear such things.  
  
They have never spoken on the subject - he has never talked to her outside of class at all, truly. But this year he has started casually leaving weapons out - and she will return them a few hours before sunrise (along with some fresh apples or unicorn hair - anything that catches her eye really that she thinks will make a suitable thank you gift.)  
  
The same holds true for Professor Lupin - not the weapons but the silence. The incident on the train has never been mentioned again _(and Luna certainly has never brought up what she has sensed about him to anyone else_ ). She can feel him watching her sometimes in class - curious but cautious - but if she looks up his eyes will flinch away. ( _Stronger_ , the First Slayer murmurs darkly in her head. _Slayer stronger than Wolf_.)  
  
Despite the odd behavior, she likes him, he is a good teacher, much better than Lockheart. And he is even patient when she asks questions about rare creatures, instead of dismissive like her fellow Ravenclaws (or even many teachers).  
  
And they aren’t the only teachers from whom she feels these things. Her Head of House, Professor Flitwick, is very clearly part Goblin - and it feels orderly to her senses, sharp and precise. During her lessons with Professor Hooch First Year, she had a terrible time organizing her thoughts so she could order her broom around clearly because the entire time her sister Slayers were arguing whether she was part demon, a dragon shifter, or had some Fae blood.  
  
It pops up amongst the students as well - and there are many amongst the Slytherin whose blood is not quite as pure as their claim if her senses aren’t lying to her ( _which they aren't, the voices in her head assure smugly_ ).   
  
But mostly these little quirks during the school day amuse her, and it feels like it is at night that she truly comes alive. The balance of the two makes her feel calm, happy - whole.  
  
And Luna would be content if her friends where too - but they _aren’t_. Ginny faces many stumbling blocks going into Second Year; there are large blanks in her knowledge from the diary - lost time she cannot get back but now require extra studying, a scramble to not be left behind her fellow classmates. There is also the fact that although the entire story over what happened in the Chamber never got out, there are rumors - and many are unkind  
  
So, Luna attempts to help Ginny as much as she can. They do not have classes together usually so this falls to homework and just talking. Allowing her best friend to vent her frustrations, yell when she needs to and cry it out too. She does not mind though, it is comforting ( _her sisters are silent when she is with Ginny, they seem to be listening attentively - Luna thinks, made to be alone so long, they desperately want friends too._ )  
  
The entire school becomes a tense rollicking thing when someone breaks into Hogworts, destroys the Fat Lady’s painting, and get’s all the way into the Gryffindor’s boys sleeping quarters. ( _It happens rather early in the night - so much so that Luna had yet to even start her rounds, so at least she isn't found suspicious for being outside_.)  
  
But even Luna feels unsettled by this development - part of her stubbornly insisting that she should have been there to _protect_ , even as the logical part of her brain kicks in and dispels that thought. (How could she have know after all.) Harry, who people whisper was the target of this attack seems more withdrawn - but then, so much has happened to him.  
  
The Dementors got to him on the train as well - but sadly have been after him still subsequently - his broom was destroyed by the Whomping Willow, and now someone has tried to attack him while sleeping.  
  
The Harry in question ( _for Luna is quite sure there are many, even if she does not know them personally_ ) joins the table Ginny and her have claimed in the Library after Christmas break. He appears to need distance from his other friends’ constant bickering sometimes - something about a cat, a scab, homework and a broom this time. She really does not understand it, but is happy to allow him to study at their table. Luna is well aware that she has few friends, and is happy that Harry seems to want to be one of them.  
  
She likes Harry; Luna had decided that rather shortly after meeting him. A strange boy but people say she is a strange girl and she has heard from her father how silly much of the main stream press can be - so, she knows his moniker of "The Boy Who Lived" is a thing wholly created by media reacting to the tragedy and heroism of the parents. Nothing really to do with the baby Harry Potter.  
  
Or it shouldn't. But she has pondered many a night this title - both before and after she knew him. And...it fits to her, to link _Harry_ to _life_.  
  
Life to her Death. _Balance_.   
  
( _Although he fits the role of Persephone about as well as she does Hades. And they are not thoroughly those aspects anyway, Harry is liberally marked by Ares and she is almost purely Artemis most of the times – perhaps it is best, since she values his friendship so dearly that she would never want that disastrous lover’s tale to play out again. Would never wish to cage away his light in her world of darkness._ )   
  
She never really thought there would be another person like her in this (outside of her dream-sisters, of course). Both of them so surrounded by swirling clouds of _purpose_ , by Darkness, by conflict, by inevitable War.  
  
It was never a comfortable thing, being Chosen after all.  
  
And perhaps it is much simpler than that, far less heady. Perhaps it is because when they look at each other those layers peel away. The titles become scraps upon the floor. And all that is left are two little children – reaching for a dead parents love. ( _Parents who’s very deaths molded who they were today._ ) Is it so silly that as they reach and reach _(set on paths so dark, yet necessary_ ), they would touch?  
  
She would think this is all in her head, yet another of those things only she can sense and feel, but he seems to as well. Relaxes as they talk, smiles and tilts his head as if listening for something – a resonance just under the surface.  
  
Yes, just _there_.  
  
Just there.  
  
But such things aren’t really Luna’s primary concern - they are a constant _(life and death will always be there, a cycle to continue on and on_ ). She is more concerned with a more immediate death, rumors she has heard of a man coming tomorrow to put Buckbeak down - as if the Hippogriff were an unthinking thing, a mindless creature.  
  
Luna says nothing when she hears this, but within her mind, the Slayer sisters group around her and they start planning.


	7. Chapter Two: Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

  
Luna’s Second Year: In Which Men are Dogs – But Only in the Most Literal Sense  
  
  
Part Three  
  
  
  
Really, it is a simplistic, if odd sort of logic that aides her thought. Many of the sister Slayers do not like it; they wish for a more complex plan but give rather quickly in light of the reality of the current world Luna is living ( _so unlike their own_ ).  
  
Because, despite the fact that it is Buckbeak’s life Luna wishes to save, she can feel _more_ growing in the air, everything tensing about to spring. And that means, quite simply, that Harry will be the key to set off the action, to saving the hippogriff and playing out the rest.  
  
She can tell he does not like his role ( _and his repeated casting_ ), but it is hard to help it - Luna honestly cannot think of a way to extricate him - because things simply _happen_ around her friend. So many stares, at that scar upon his brow, in heavy expectation, that dramatic action is willed into being.  
  
And so, Luna makes the decision to keep a careful eye on Harry.  
  
But that ends up being much more difficult than she thought - frustratingly so. Because they are in both separate grades _and_ separate Houses. She is only able to catch sight of him, on normal days, during meals, between classes in the hallways, and in the evenings in the Library.   
  
And this doesn’t really suit her needs when she knows ( _can feel the pumping in her blood_ ) that things will be in motion - and _soon_.   
  
She starts to get that distinct feeling the morning Buckbeak’s execution is scheduled. It reaches a pitch during Charms and her body feels hypersensitive, she starts noticing very acutely how incredibly familiar some things happening seem to be. This sensation has happened before to a lesser extent and Luna has simply shaken it off as part of the castle - but this time though, when she is already alert, it makes her bite her lip and struggle not to seem like she is still paying attention to Professor Flitwick.   
  
_De ja vu_ , the french phrase trips flawlessly off of Josette’s cultured tongue, in an almost bored manner despite her sharp eyes and the other Slayers in her mind mutter their own assent, and somehow her senses seem to heighten all the more as she tenses for a possible threat.   
  
On a strong hunch, she asks to be excused to the restroom ( _the Professor blinks and swallows hard - as if startled by her for some reason by the look of her - when he glances over at her raised hand, and then acquiesces to her request immediately_ ) and then started prowling the hallway looking for Harry. Because something is happening, or _has happened_ already.  
  
She actually almost runs into him as he exits a closet with his friend, Hermione.  
  
The other girl starts to attempt to extricate them from her presence immediately - tripping over an excuse, that is rather obviously a lie - but Luna’s eyes are automatically trained to the contraption she was tucking back underneath her shirt: a _time turner_. She feels incredibly pleased as the reason for the off feeling falls into place and relief makes her chest loosen.  
  
Only then do her eyes skip up to Hermione ( _who seems to still be trying to settle on a good excuse to make her go away_ ) and then to Harry. She gives her friend a small smile, “Would you like to help me save, Buckbeak then Future Harry? You as well, of course, Future Hermione,” she adds, not wanting to seem like she was leaving the other girl out.  
  
Harry grins delightedly in return - especially, it seems, at Hermione’s blank surprise. But then his expression abruptly turns serious and he grabbed Luna’s arm. “My Godfather, too. He’s in trouble as well,” Harry adds emphatically, before stopping suddenly and letting her go again, as if not sure what else he can say.  
  
“Harry!” Hermione finds her voice and hisses at him in warning. “You can’t - how did she even know - “  
  
But Luna is used to secrets, and part-secrets, so she does not push. “ Of course,“ she responds simply and turns to trot down to Hagrid’s hut. Time travelers or not, they mustn't be late - there are lives counting on them.  
  
  
***  
  
  
“How do you know Harry then?” Hermione asks, after they have unchained poor Buckbeak and are hiding together in the woods behind Hagrid’s hut. ( _An affair that seems to take much more rig-a-ma-role then she thinks they really need - including throwing rocks at windows and such - but they much have gone back in time for a reason so she'll let them do these things they think necessary._ ) And Luna almost smiles at the suspicious ( _and nearly jealous_ ) tone that isn’t buried too deeply in the curly haired girl’s voice.   
  
Luna is so very used to herself, that she sometimes forgets how abnormal she can seem to others. It only occurs to her when what she says, her point of view - and very being - are taken as such a surprise. But she never grew up surrounded by people who pushed her to conform; her Mother didn’t follow the path of the typical Potential Slayer - and no one would ever say her Father was a wizard worried about others’ opinions.  
  
She almost thinks she understands the tone of the question though - with so few friends herself, Hermione feels threatened by the idea that Luna ( _an utterly unknown variable that has suddenly appeared_ ) might take Harry from her. Luna remembers how sad and desperate she felt last year when Ginny was slipping away from her and she had no idea the reason why.   
  
But she is not threatening Harry - either the boy, physically, or the other girl’s relationship with him. Her eyes flick to the boy in question for a moment but he seemed preoccupied with watching the Whomping Willow ( _Luna wishes she had known ahead of time how long they would have to wait - she would have brought sandwiches_ ), so she simply answered honestly.   
  
“He is my friend,” Luna replied plainly, toeing off her shoes and sitting down upon the Forest floor. Yawning widely she stretched out and lied her head upon Buckbeak’s side. She hears quiet (and very familiar hoof steps), smiles in greeting, feels the weight of Glinda head upon her own stomach and smiles as runs her fingers over the Thestral’s smooth, bony, head - happy for the comforting presences ( _especially during this conversation_ ).  
  
After a pause the other two humans sat as well ( _utterly oblivious to the Thestral_ ). “You should be more careful,” Hermione said, watching her with narrowed eyes, “I know he might seem tame but Hipogriffs are dangerous. And you should really be more alert - the forest is full of Dark creatures, we all need to keep our eyes open.”  
  
Luna just stares at her for a moment before stating honestly, “It is dangerous. But I won’t be harmed here.” And that is true; the Forest is one of the places she has grown to know quite well. She feels very at home within these trees.  
  
“Why would you…” the other girl began to ask, catching her careful word choice.  
  
“ _Hermione_ ,” Harry said sharply, entering the conversation. “Do you like keeping secrets?”  
  
“What?” she asked turning to him, uncrossing her arms, obviously startled.  
  
“Keeping secrets. From adults. Teachers. _Your parents_. Even other students when something is going on that we can’t tell them. Do you like it when we have to keep secrets sometimes?” Luna watched the two of them interacted avidly, from behind half closed eyes. She kept keenly aware of their surroundings through her body on the ground ( _tracking through vibration one of the tricks taught to her by the Centaurs_ ) although the two she was making a keasle pile with would alert her to danger as well .   
  
( _Part of her very much wondered if this was the best way to handle the situation. Keep silent, allow Hermione and Harry to bicker while her Slayerness sat to the side. But truthfully, she did not know Hermione, had spoken to her for the first time today, and - while she understood curiosity - found her insistent stance that seemed to say, of course Luna would tell her, rather off putting. Her Sister Slayers were very staunch in their push for secrecy and Luna could find little reason to argue against them in this instance._ )  
  
“You know I don’t,” Hermione responded in a low whisper to Harry’s query.  
  
“Then why are you trying so hard for another one?” Harry asked. “Luna’s not harming us. She has helped me before - and never asked me for anything. Why are you pushing, Hermione?”  
  
“I just wanted to know,” the other girl admitted, grinning ruefully, her brown eyes flicking to Luna, and the smile turning apologetic. “I think I was a bit upset because you knew something I didn’t.”  
  
“But I don’t, really,” the dark haired boy shrugged.  
  
“ _What_?” Hermione asked her eyebrows knitting together.  
  
“Harry did not ask me anything. He simply saw that I could do some things that perhaps most witches can not. He does not know _why_ ,” Luna spoke up. “In the Wizarding World, I am only aware of my Mother, Father, Ginny, and I who know the _why_. And I only told _one_ of those four - another is dead.” Considering she turned to Harry, “You’re welcome to tell her about everything that happened in the Chamber if you think it will make everyone feel better to have the information between the two of you even. It was very much your tale as well, after all - and I’m sure Ginny won’t mind either, she likes Hermione.”  
  
“You told Ginny?” Hermione latched onto that detail.  
  
“Yes, she is my best friend,” Luna said, then her expression closed down, her eyes growing cold. “And I hoped that we might be friends one day too - I have heard good things about you. But I will be very upset if you try to press her for information in my stead.”  
  
She kept eye contact with the other girl until she looked away nodding sharply. Harry simply grinned and shook his head, but a few beats later he launched into a story of Salazar Slytherin, a rather large snake, a spectacular bird, a smart be-spelled Hat, a special sword, and a Slayer ( _although they didn’t know that detail_ ) that helped fill the time until nightfall.


	8. Chapter Two: Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

  
  
Luna’s Second Year: In Which Men are Dogs – But Only in the Most Literal Sense  
  
  
Part Four  
  
  
It was odd to see Present Harry and Present Hermione travel through a hidden passageway in the Whomping Willow as she sat with their future selves. And they seemed troubled by it as well - Hermione having to hold Harry back frequently (just as she Luna had to hold Buckbeack back when a rather sad Professor Hagrid walks by). Harry was especially angered by Professor Snape following them, picking up his past selves’ dropped cloak along the way - apparently it was an heirloom ( _and with so little family alive, herself, Luna could understand the attachment_ ).  
  
As they waited after that bit of action, conversation turned to things that had happened in the earlier timestream ( _as Luna now decided to think of it since things would never be as they were then because of their changes_ ) and she paid close attention because Hermione was asking Harry about a run in with Dementors. Luna had a special sort of dislike for those creatures.  
  
Harry explained how so many had attacked their group and the nearest one had almost Kissed him before a large silver something had galloped across the Lake forcing them to retreat. After some prodding, Hermione got him to admit that he thought it was his father.  
  
“Harry, your dad’s - well - _dead_ ,” Hermione said quietly.  
  
“The dead are never very far away,” Luna sighed, not stopping her star gazing - lying flat on her back ( _Buckbeack now with his head on her stomach, Glinda having gone for a run earlier_ ) - but she could feel both of their eyes suddenly on her.   
  
“But ghosts can’t do spells,” Hermione insisted.  
  
“Not in the same sense that we do - no. But, the dead doesn’t always simply mean ghosts. And even spirits have long been known to affect people and objects,” Luna murmured, not raising her voice.   
  
“Do you think it could have been my, Dad?” Harry asked.  
  
She hummed to herself thinking of her own Mother, of all of the voices of dead women that kept her company in her brain on a constant basis - and of another sort of death, the vampires those women regularly faced. “As a physical presence - I am not sure,” she admitted, turning to look at him in the dark. “But something does not have to be physical to make itself felt.”  
  
Hermione sighed and crossed her arms but said nothing else. Harry though stared at her for a long while, neither of them quite willing to break eye contact - green and silver, oddly Slytherin colors for two people who had rather few of those characteristics ( _well, who didn’t usually display them anyway; they were both rather good at sneaking_ ).  
  
Finally though, it was time ( _and Luna was rather glad, she had been feeling distinctly odd simply sitting at the edge of the Forest and doing nothing when she would normally be on her patrol_ ) and the whole group started coming out of the hole.  
  
Professor Lupin, Ron, and a man she rather did not like the looks of even from a distance. Then Harry, Hermione, and…”Your godfather is Stubby Brodman!” she grinned at her friend widely.  
  
“What?” he asked glancing at her, confusion breaking up the frown that had been in place as he glared at the scene - but then Hermione gasped.  
  
“Lupin. He’s transforming,” she whispered rapidly, as if remembering. “He’s going to run into the Forest - head right for us.”  
  
“I’ll take take care of it,” Luna said matter of factly standing up and letting Buckbeak amble up right as well.  
  
“What - you can’t -he’s a,” the older girl’s eyes were huge and worry showed on her face.   
  
“Werewolf,” Luna finished for her in the same tone as before.  
  
“Hermione, I told you about the Chamber. She took care of a basilisk, she can take care of Professor Lupin,” Harry said with a small grin and his trust in her made Luna smile as well. Hermione did not seem entirely convinced, but as Harry trusted Luna - Hermione trusted Harry, so she would follow his lead.  
  
“We’ll be at Hagrid’s,” he told her - Buckbeak’s head turned at that name and the other’s noticed as well. “And we’ll take Buckbeak with us if he wants to,” he added giving the Hipogriff a small bow.  
  
“Bye for now, then,” Luna whispered, waving as they ran off. When they were gone, she turned towards the middle of the Forest, held both hands to her mouth and made a specific trilling call, paused then another tweeting sound. And smiled when there was a hooting response only moments later. Then she simply waited - and not for long, Luna could hear hear him coming.  
  
Around the corner very suddenly appeared the werewolf in front of her ( _she has only seen them from her sister Slayers and, in person, is struck by this odd amalgamation of wolf and man - parts of both but not quite either_ ), but Luna feels no fear as her adrenaline kicks in, as her _purpose_ shifts into place with a snap. She backs up a step keeping her eyes locked on him, and the wolf follows, only seeing prey in it’s frenzied state - only seeing the little girl not sensing the Slayer. Luna smiles widely, this would be easier than she thought.  
  
“That’s it, Professor,” she whispered, “follow me. I have no Grandmother’s house or red hood but I can improvise rather well.” She takes another step back and the werewolf tries to pounce at her. With a laugh Luna turns and runs.  
  
She gets little opportunity to run flat out with her Slayer speed and stamina, and absolutely loves the feeling of it. Jumping over tree roots, ducking limbs, dodging nastier plants, zig zagging through a path only those of the Forest know, and yelling encouragements to her Professor over her shoulder that only seems to inflame the wolf. Luna does not know if Slayers are faster than werewolves or not ( _her Sister’s experiences with the species are primarily of the kill not racing and they only give the warning not to let him close enough to bite her_ ) but she knows this place as well as the Rook, her home, and is easily able to stay ahead of a creature tripping over itself in it’s excitement of possible prey.  
  
Right before she reaches her destination she jumps and grabs a tree branch, swinging her body easily into the higher boughs with the grace of a gymnast ( _or, at least, the memories of one_ ). The wolf blindly barrels into clearing and spins around in angry confusion, howling when he can’t find her.   
  
Than is when the centuars, she called to earlier, that have been in wait here, walk calmly out of hiding. And it is little contest - over a dozen centuars against one werewolf. They do not have her worry over his claws or bite (werewolves cannot turn someone who is already half horse) and so it is quick work for them to hobble him.  
  
That is when she swings back down ( _feeling a bit like that Trazan fellow, from that book her mother read her - which was apparently rather popular from the number of giggles and loud yodeling jungle calls, the floating though gets from the other Slayers_ ) - the wolf’s eyes instantly training on her. He starts straining at the ropes but the centuars know what they are doing and she has no fear of him escaping until they let him out. She walks forward steadily, letting him roll around and kick futiley - generally wear himself out - so that he is simply, lying upon his side, panting when she is next to him.  
  
Luna squats down so that she is above him looking down into his wolfy face. “You will stay here, Professor,” she says calmly but her eyes are hard. He starts to buck again but in a flash, she pushes him flat and sits upon him, pinning his tied arms to his chest with her legs. She places her hand on his throat and doesn't move an inch, doesn’t react to his attempts to escape her.   
  
“Stay,” she repeats holding eye contact. And finally he stops moving, drops his eyes away, his entire body seems to go limp.  
  
Luna still does not move for a good minute, judging the wolves intent ( _although they did not tend to be deceitful creatures_ ) and when she was sure, she pulled the knife she kept in her boot, and cut him loose. Freed he stayed just as limp beneath her. Luna smiled soothingly, and petted him, “Just rest now. I’ll come back and check on you in the morning.”  
  
When she stood to thank the centuars for their assistance, she noticed they seemed a bit... _ruffled_ , she would say surprised if their kind ever appeared that way. “Is everyone alright?” she asked her steady eyes surveying the group.  
  
“We are simply did not expect your actions, Slayer. The stars seem to hold their secrets when it comes to you,” Bane said.  
  
“And I often thank the stars for their discretion,” Luna smiled up at one of her favorite teachers, and was amused that her comment made the serious being’s lips twitch and actually made a few of her other comrades chuckle. “And if I could impose on a few of you for a few hours longer,” Luna continued, “I would ask of you to watch over Professor Lupin until he is of his own mind again. I will be back but I want to check on Harry and his Godfather. I promised I would help my friend.”  
  
They simply nodded at her request. “The constellations are not so quiet about him,” Frineze murmured, gazing up at the sky in question. And so Luna left them to their watch and talk of Prophesy.


	9. Chapter Two: Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

  
  
  
Luna’s Second Year: In Which Men are Dogs – But Only in the Most Literal Sense  
  
Part Five  
  
  
Glinda joins back up with her on the way back to Hagrid’s cabin; the skeletal black horse sliding out of the shadows as if she had been residing in them, and matching her stride instantly from weeks upon weeks, of habit for nearly two years now really. Luna simply smiles, doesn’t stop running, and reaches out a hand to graze her friend’s flank, in greeting.  
  
She sees Harry before arriving upon their agreed upon destination though - both Harrys in fact. Present Harry is father from her - across the Lake - with a group of others, being approached by a whole flock of Dementors. Their presence grates upon her senses, makes her want to run across the distance separating them and jump into the melee, _fight_ the horrible things as well she can ( _even though she doubts she would do as well, hand to hand, with such a large group as she did with just one - after all, the tactical Slayer aspect of her mind has already zoomed in on the fact that the large Executioner’s axe, left in the back garden, would be on the way_ ).  
  
But the presence of Future Harry ( _only yards away now_ ) makes her pause - because he is crouched down and observing the scene anxiously but _not_ acting. And Luna had listened to Hermione when she spoke of changing futures irreconcilably, doesn’t know if this is one of the events that the two of them were sent back to tweak or that might crumble if she were to make any adjustments ( _or of she is a separate element entirely - this is her time, she is Present Luna after all_ ).  
  
When she gets to his side Luna slides to her knees, ignoring the slight sting of pain - the school uniform was not very in line with these sorts of activities. ( _And mentally sighing, the slight scrapes she had gotten from running through the forest and swinging through the trees in a skirt had just started to scab up too._ ) Harry jumps a bit before he sees it is her, then relaxes, and goes back to staring across the lake.  
  
“Should we be doing anything? Do you need help?” Luna asked, watching the scene as well - tension building in her as the other Harry attempted a Patronus but was overwhelmed, as that Harry fell.   
  
“I- I thought it was my Father. That he would come. But it’s just _me_ ,” Harry admitted, quick and low, as if he didn’t want to say it, as if it was something shameful.  
  
She blinked at him kneeling there, tense and upset, hair unruly as always and glasses glinting in the moonlight. “It’s alright to save yourself sometimes, Harry,” she said matter of factly. “If you don’t how would you ever save anyone else?”  
  
“That actually makes sense,” he admitted grinning. Looking down he gripped his wand, closing his eyes and centering himself, before standing quickly and intoning “ _Expecto Patronus_.”   
  
And - and a large buck of light exploded from the end of his wand, charging the dementors. It was glorious to behold and Luna laughed in joy when she saw the way it chased the horrible things. And her laughter somehow seemed to make it stronger, urge it on to take on more of them.   
  
Luna saw Hermione coming, out of the corner of her eye - she appeared frustrated ( _scared even, and that seemed to be what was pushing her anger - but from what she had been telling them about time and the consequences of meddling Luna could understand her worry_ ). Luna was simply too delighted though, and urged her to come quicker and see, to witness these dark things being taken down by light.   
  
The curly haired girl ran the rest of the way - with Buckbeak trailing behind - and was able to witness the end of Harry’s spell. Hermione seemed like she still wanted to fuss but in the face of Harry’s smile and Luna’s too loud laughter, she couldn’t help but giggle herself.  
  
“You two are ridiculous,” she shook her head, smiling. “Now tell me what you’ve both been up to so we can try to plan what to do next.”  
  
 _Watcher_ , the Slayer sisters murmured at her tone. Luna smiled even wider, understanding shifting into place - this is why she had _needed_ information so badly. ( _Protection, teaching, planning, research, family - the best ones anyway - worry_ ) Hermione was Harry’s Watcher.  
  
With that in mind, ( _with knowledge from the memories of many women - both good and bad - of how that role often worked_ ) she felt much more comfortable around the other girl . And the three of them ducked back behind the treeline again ( _with their two winged companions_ ) to plan.  
  
**  
  
Apparently, their time was limited ( _despite the little device around Hermione’s neck_ ) and the two humans with her needed to be in the Infirmary by five minutes to midnight. ( _It seemed very like a fairy tale. Part of her mind imagined their clothes all turning into pajamas and the castle transforming into a pumpkin as the important time struck, but she thought she might be getting a few tales tangled up - or perhaps was making them out of whole cloth since instead of a sense of familiarity, the other Slayers in her mind were giggling at her thoughts_.) As for herself, Luna figured that if they were all done by then she would simply go on her usual patrol when they parted ways, ending the night checking on a certain werewolf.  
  
They watched Snape regain consciousness and float the limp forms of the others into the castle and then tried to judge how long it would take until things were in place so that a rescue mission could commence. ( _Would be awfully embarrassing to show up to break someone out before they have even arrived, after all._ )  
  
“Do you think Sirius is up there yet?” Harry was practically bouncing in place as he eyed the West Tower.  
  
“ _Sirius_?” Luna murmured, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.  
  
“I think you called him, Stubby,” Hermione said with a grin despite her own palpable tension.  
  
“Ah!” Luna exclaimed quietly, turning back to Harry. “It’s quite nice that you have nicknames already. “Some people at school call me Loony but I don’t think that’s quite the same,” she told him earnestly. ( _And many of the Forest simply called her Slayer, but that was more a statement of what she was, an acknowledgment not a nickname._ )  
  
Harry looked at her bemusedly and opened his mouth to say something but Hermione suddenly pointed. “Manacair! I think he’s gone to get the Dementors.”  
  
Luna frowned at the large form of the Executioner moving across the yard, “I should steal his axe,” she murmured causing her companions to snort ( _although she was rather serious and Disa had been encouraging her to snitch it ever since it had been abandoned that afternoon. The Vikng Slayer coveted the large sharp looking blade and Luna herself had become fond of axes from her frequent use of Hagrid's._ ).  
  
“Ready, now?” Harry asked approaching Buckbeak.   
  
“You two go,” Luna said, “Buckbeack shouldn’t have to take too many - and there might be spellwork on the window,” she added, when Hermione opened her mouth obviously offering her place, uneasy with the idea of flying.  
  
She knew Harry might have argued more but he was anxious to rescue this man who represented a tie to family. “What about you?” he managed to ask as they were getting astride the hiprogriff’s back.  
  
“I’ll meet you atop the Astronomy Tower. There is another way for Stubby to get away that is a tad less conspicuous,” Luna said with a small smile.  
  
“They both opened their mouths to question her but she shook her hands at them, “Shoo! Go rescue,” and with a grin, Harry nudged Buckbeak with his heels causing the hipogriff to run a ways and then pump his wings, soaring into the sky - Hermione holding on tight with her eyes squeezed shut the entire time.


	10. Chapter Two: Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

  
  
  
Luna’s Second Year: In Which Men are Dogs – But Only in the Most Literal Sense  
  
Part Six:  
  
  
“You don’t mind, do you?,” she asked, when they had gone, turning to Glinda who had been waiting at her side. The thestral gave a huff and rolled her dark eyes, making Luna grin. “I didn’t think you would, but it was awful rude of me to make the offer without asking you first.” The Slayer got a good natured head but for the comment that made her giggle. “Well then;” she said, “meet you at the top of the tower.”  
  
She ran swiftly then, acutely aware that the two other parties would be traveling through the air while she would be on foot and have to traverse through hallways and up stairs, avoiding people, in the castle. Luna was well aware that she could have asked Glinda for a lift, but if she was able to do a task herself she always strove to do so. ( _It just felt impolite to impose upon the hospitality of the Forest dwellers when they had always been so kind to her_.)  
  
And so she leaned heavily upon her speed, but made sure to keep to her watchful silence, as she zoomed in upon her location. Luna was well aware of the way, because she might know the Dark Forest far better Hogwarts, but her Slayer instincts - and all of those women inside of her brain with lifetimes (however short) of instruction pushed into their own heads - would not have let her get away with forgetting to explore the place in which she spent her days, where she slept.  
  
Whether syncing with her magic ( _something Luna did not doubt Hogwarts was capable of_ ) or simply by luck, the castle seemed happy to work with her on this occasion too - all of the stairways led easily in the right direction and she encountered no other soul on her way. But even taking the direct route and running nearly as fast as she could, and feeling the burn in her leg muscles from the exertion, Luna still got to the top of the Astronomy Tower second - Glinda beating her there. Her thestral friend was lying down as if she had been waiting for _ages_ , but her bored, relaxed, posture was completely ruined by the utterly smug tilt of the head she gave when Luna opened the door onto the roof.  
  
“Oh, I know,” Luna said with a giggling huff, flopping down beside her and stroking her bony head as she looked to the skies for the others. And it was only a few minutes until she saw them and Luna stood again and waved so the human’s would see their location ( _Buckbeak would easily be able to see them in the darkness, after all._ )  
  
Buckbeak gave a rather harder landing then usual though and all three scrambled off his back. The hipogriff stretched and ruffled his feathers at the sudden change in weight upon his spine.   
  
“Sirius, you’d better go quickly,” Harry said right away. “They’ll find out you're gone soon."  
  
"Who's this?" his Godfather asked, gesturing at her ( _still following the conversation she had been trying to put herself to rights a bit - although she feared this uniform might not be usable anymore outside of some truly creative work from the House Elves with stain removal. She really needed to bring specific Slaying clothing to school next year_ ). "And what happened to that other boy? Ron?"  
  
"Ron's with Madame Pomfrey - he's going to be fine," Hermione answered, then she looked over met her eyes, and grinned bemusedly. "And that's, _Luna_."  
  
She smiled back at the other girl because, although the truth, this obviously didn't answer anything ( _and was just the sort of answer that would have angered Hermione herself_ ) but time was too short to question a random girl's presence more intensely, so the man dismissed it. "How can I ever thank -," he began instead turning to Harry and Hermione.  
  
"Go!" the two older students shouted at him, pointing to the hipogriff, whom had been their transportation for the evening. But as soon as they did, Luna shouted, "Wait!"  
  
"Don't take, Buckbeak," she insisted, "he's a dear, but rather conspicuous. Take Glinda," she put her hand upon the thestral's back once it had stood - and where Harry and Hermione could not see her friend ( _had not seen death, or at least did not remember doing so_ ), it was obvious that Stubby could.   
  
And whether because he was in a hurry or there was no better plan, he didn't argue. As Harry's Godfather was getting upon Glinda's back something else occurred to her. "You have no place to go - do you?"  
  
"Sirius has to leave now, Luna," Harry almost yelled at her, but she didn't take it heart especially because the dark eyes close to hers had sparked a bit in curiosity.  
  
"I don't little one, what other ideas are in that mind of yours?" he smirked at her, and with dirt streaked all upon him and his wild hair he seemed like a magical creature too. Like all of the peoples she felt most comfortable with. ( _Plus he was important to Harry - and Harry was her friend._ )  
  
Luna calmly took out her boot knife and used it to make a small, but relatively deep, cut on her thumb.  
  
"Luna! What are you - ," Hermione began to ask but it was Stubby who interrupted her as he intently watched her smear her blood across Glinda's forehead.  
  
"Wards," he murmured, leaning down to allow her to anoint him as well.  
  
Hermione frowned as if this did not explain things, but it rather did ( _as much as her name described her anyway_ ) - Luna did not doubt that the other girl was intelligent, learned everything she could, but some things were simply not taught at Hogwarts; possibly to keep the knowledge hidden or in hopes that it would die out. But, despite this, blood wards were fairly common things to purebloods or simply the very paranoid (Lovegoods were both) and only those of the blood could key in another - with blood freely given ( _usually that was simply language but her Father's wards were older, stronger, than most - and therefore required a physical showing_ ).  
  
“Go to the Rook. Lovegood's place - my Father will be there,” she instructed both Glinda and Stubby.  
  
"He knows good places to hide. And how to make a normal place hidden,” she smiled up at the wild man and was happy that she saw recognition there at the name. Some called Lovegood’s paranoid - and perhaps they were but the magical worlds had given them good reason to be over the years - and it was well reflected in their family magic. In the spells passed down, the wards on their homes, the mental protections ingrained into them from a very young age."And Daddy was rather upset with the handling of your story this summer, Mr. Boardman - I know he would be happy for an interview if you would like to give your side of things," she added sincerely.  
  
"Go," Harry insisted again, quieter this time but just as insistent - just as much thinly buried fear for this man, his family.  
  
And so Stubby Boardman straightened up, said, "Thank you," eyes intensely sweeping over them all, and with only the slightest bit of squeeze of his legs, Glinda flew off.


	11. Chapter Two: Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

  
  
  
Luna’s Second Year: In Which Men are Dogs – But Only in the Most Literal Sense  
  
Interlude:  
  
  
He awakens to his shoulder being shaken gently - it can't be long past sunrise and his body feels simply _terrible_ : weak, pained, and slow. So, it takes Remus a few beats of time to, not only open his eyes but to realize what must have happened the night before for him to be naked in the forest except for a large blanket ( _that looks like it has seen better days_ ) draped over top of most of his body.  
  
Although, his initial conclusion doesn’t cover everything. Because, really, the full moon doesn’t exactly explain why a Second Year, Ravenclaw, student, of his is the one waking him up in the pale grey light of the _very_ early morning. ( _Why anyone, at all, is here to wake him up_.)  
  
“Here you go now, Professor,” she says gently easing him to sitting upright before handing over a large mug of water - and he hadn’t even realised how terribly thirsty he was until he saw it. His hands shake too badly to navigate the container himself though, and she has to assist him in drinking. Remus thinks this might embarrass him if he felt just the _slightest_ bit better.   
  
“I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?” he asks worriedly, frightened suddenly over this lack of memory. He had gotten a bit used to keeping his own mind during the change with the Wolfsbane - to return to how it was previously with this utter blankness leaves him with so many questions. None of them pleasant in the least. There are so many things that could have gone wrong when the last thing he remembers before the change hit was being chained to two people ( _he could care less if he ate Wormtail - the traitor deserved worse, part of him thought savagely - but the Weasley's youngest boy, Ron, had been part of their group as well_ )  
  
“No;” she - Luna, ( _it’s Luna Lovegood that’s right his brain starts to kick in_ ) assures in the same dreamy tone she used in the classroom to ask questions about creatures he had never heard of, “you ran into the Forest and I made sure you got to someplace safe.”   
  
“How-” he starts to ask but cuts himself off when his eyes catch the play of light across a metallic surface and they shift away from her face to the large two sided axe leaning against the tree behind her. “Who’s is _that_?” Remus decides to query instead.  
  
She glances over at it as well, a small smile growing over her face as she looks at the weapon, “It’s _mine_ now.”  
  
And when she looks back at him there is something _more_ present in her eyes ( _or something uncovered that is always there in wait_ ) that makes his own dart down. Oh, _this_ \- he remembers this as much as he has been actively trying not to think about it all through the year as he taught her. ( _Trying to forget finding her there in the dark hall of the Hogwort’s Express, bits of dementor on the floor._ )   
  
Because Remus knows he is not human, ( _has had that harsh reminder with every job, he was more than qualified for, declined because of what he was_ ) but he does not quite know how to handle it when bits of the wolves mentality pop up outside of the full moon; does not exactly like to admit ( _even to himself_ ) that he can feel anything beyond the normal five senses when it is not that time of the month.  
  
But, somehow, now that he is a bit more alert and able to think about it ( _honestly with himself this time, actually_ ), it truly is not surprising that this girl - all of twelve years old - knew what he was and _did not_ fear it. Was the one to find him and keep him in check when he had not taken his potions. Because despite being a tiny blonde thing with a vague look on her face most of the time, and a dreamy disposition, Luna Lovegood was undeniably _dominate_ to his wolf.  
  
Somehow, _more so_ now.   
  
But where before where there was a stab of fear ( _of fight or flight_ ) deep down every time he would sense that other part of her, now he feels... _protected_. An odd, but solid, instinctual knowledge that this stronger being will defend him. And Remus understands that magic plays fast and loose with logic, at the best of times, but it is still rather disconcerting that that being the wolf inside him is saying will take care of him, is in the form of someone both so much younger ( _a year behind Harry, Prongs’ son, even_ ) and smaller than himself. Remus does not know what happened last night to facilitate this shift in perception, and really does not have the mental capacity at the moment to ponder it.  
  
“Professor, I’m sorry to wake you but we need to start moving. I did not think you would want me to help you through the hallways, only wearing a blanket, when students were around,” her lips were quirked a bit, but her silver eyes were steady when he looked back up.  
  
“Ah - right,” he responded automatically, nodding to himself, only blushing belatedly when the implications finally reached his brain. Yes, that wouldn’t be good - and would guarantee his firing even more than this incident would probably necessitate it anyway.   
  
And so he tried to stand, but did not quite make it and had to settle for keeping a bit of his dignity in tact by holding onto the blanket while Luna practically picked him up and placed him in standing position. When she took a step away to retrieve the mug on the ground, they found out that he was not even quite up to this in his weak state. But she simply took it in stride, and moved to his side so that he could lean on her her ( _slump most of his weight down upon her much shorter form, honestly_ ) as they hobbled along on a path out of the Forest.  
  
His curiosity flared at her blatant strength but in the face of all that she had done - and was still doing - for him, Remus did not really think he could ask about something like obvious _difference_. Something that he knew from experience could be riddled with emotional landmines. And many people with other species in their bloodline found it outright insulting to be asked about it.  
  
And so to distract himself from both his curiosity and the pain that flared brightly in his muscles on every step, he asked the first thing that came to mind. “Ah -um - where did this blanket come from?” It was rather obviously not one form Hogwort’s bedding.  
  
“Hagrid’s,” she answered promptly, urging him around a sharp looking bush, “the mug is from there too. I knew he wouldn’t mind. I picked it up on the way back through from helping Harry with his godfather. Grabbed the Executioner’s axe from the back gardens then too,” she added absentmindedly.  
  
Remus, stopped dead in the woods, within visual distance from the exit now, but couldn’t care less about that or the massive axe anymore. “Sirius? Where is he - is he alright?” he asked anxiously and could have slapped himself a second later for blurting such things. But perhaps he blame his lack of discretion on being so very tired, in pain, and the sheer oddity of the situation.  
  
Luna urged him to start walking again before she answered. “Yes, that was his nickname,” she murmured, nodding to herself. “And he will be quite safe,” she looked at him out of the corner of her eye as if weighing something, before nodding again. “You’re friends?” she asked but the tone of her voice said that she had already reached that conclusion.  
  
“He’s my best friend. My only friend alive anymore,” Remus admitted and blinked hard as they broke the treeline and came into the rising sun.   
  
She didn’t let them stop their pace though and continued to propel him towards the school. “Write owls to the Rook. I don’t know if he’ll stay very long but that is where he’s headed now and normal post doesn’t work - our wards block individual’s magical signatures,” she stated matter of factly. Then when she looked him over again upon opening Hogworts large entrances' door one-handed she said, “Perhaps I should tell you again when you are feeling better, Professor.”  
  
Remus glanced over at the small blond Ravenclaw once they were inside: she was using one of her feet to make sure the door closed slowly and quietly, while still easily balancing herself - and most of his weight - on the other. “Perhaps you’re right, Ms. Lovegood,” was all he said but felt his lips trying to tug into a grin despite how exhausted he was.  
  
Luna simply nodded and started to direct him towards some stairs but a moment later she froze stock still, tilting her head bird like, then pressing him back against a wall into realative shadow. “Someones coming,” she whispered and Remus barely had a chance to feel anxiety before she relaxed again. “Oh, it’s my Head of House.”  
  
“Hullo, Professor Flitwick,” she said as she smiled over her shoulder. "I apologize for not returning to your class, there were rather urgent matters I had to attend to."  
  
“Never mind that Ms. Lovegood, what are you doing about the hallways. It’s quite early, dear,” he heard a familiar, rather squeaky voice respond, a bit far away yet.  
  
“I’m just assisting the Professor,” Luna stated calmly, gesturing towards him with the mug still in her hand, as if this was all a normal occurrence.  
  
And the diminutive teacher finally came close enough to see him, in his rather rough state. “Oh my, Remus. Are you alright?”  
  
“Rough night, Fillius,” he murmured, and the man had been a Professor when Remus was a student and was well aware of his little furry problem. “Ms. Lovegood was helping me -,” he stopped then because he realized abruptly that while it had seemed almost second nature to lean upon this girl that his wolf was so very strange about, the two of them together must appear awfully odd to an outside observer. ( _Especially with his being dressed only in Hagrid's old blanket._ )  
  
“Of course,” the Charms Professor cut him off, surprising Remus with his instant acceptance of the situation. Then he turned to Luna, “Do you need any help, Sl- Luna?”  
  
Remus frowned, wondering at the odd slip of tongue but simultaneously nearly slid down the wall he was leaning against - would have, in fact, if not for the quick reflexes of the girl standing next to him who was immediately at his side almost instantly steadying him with a firm arm. So, he decided such thought were best left for another time when he wasn't falling asleep standing up.  
  
“I don’t know if Professor Lupin requires potions from the infirmary after the previous night," Luna answered her Head of House's question as if nothing had just happened. "I know there are a few people there right now so I don’t think I can take take him without causing a fuss,” she continued. Then there was a rather prolonged pause. “Professor Lupin?” Luna prompted him.  
  
He jerked back into alertness, “ _Hmm_?”  
  
The teacher, much older then him, and the student, quite a bit younger, were both smiling at him bemusedly. “I’ll just go ask Poppy, myself,” Fillius said gently. “Can you manage Remus up to his rooms?” he asked Luna as if he wasn't there - and Remus could not find it in himself to be in the least bit slighted given the situation.  
  
“Yes, I believe we’ll manage as well as a heliopath in a volcano," Luna said cheerily and they began to part ways. Remus gave a heavy, tired, sigh as he was forced to walk. Even though at this point, you could hardly say he was contributing much to their joint effort - he was leaning to the point of nearly being carried and hadn't even bothered to open his eyes when she had started pulling him forward.  
  
“Oh, there _is_ one more thing, Professor Flitwick,” Luna stopped and called quietly over her shoulder. “Exactly _where_ are Professor Lupin’s quarters? I’m afraid, in his present state, he isn’t a very able guide.”  
  
Remus heard the other professor giggling profusely and stuck out his tongue ( _still without bothering to open his eyes_ ).  
  
At that Luna laughed as well.


	12. Chapter Three: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.  
> A/N2: I have had a few people ask how (or even if) this story fits into the Buffy cannon and I have been working on bits of this chapter for a while to answer that to my liking. It becomes a bit AU, but hopeful it is not overly confusing.

  
  
Luna’s Third Year: In Which There Are Lots of People at the School (and a Tournament)  
  
Part One:  
  
  
It was during the summer between Luna’s Second and Third Year that her monthlies started.   
  
And it felt rather odd to her, to come upon this normal stage of adulthood, for her body to signal that it was now a young woman, when she had experienced such a larger more all encompassing change already, years ago. A twist of fate which affected her development and future in a much larger way than a bit of blood.  
  
She must admit that waking up that first morning to red on her sheets was disturbing though. Before the haze of sleep had left her and her brain could register the true reason for it, her mind had been flooded with memories from her sisters ( _past injuries and battle wounds that Slayer healing could not keep up with_ ).  
  
It was not a good way to wake up.  
  
Being male did not mean her Father was clueless about women in this aspect though, and when she had told him what had begun, he had been rather perfect in his response. Quick to hug her and usher her back to bed ( _handing her stones with fresh Heating Charms on them for her cramped stomach and back_ ) - then right to the store where he purchased all of the things she would need (as well as instructions on their uses so they would not need to have awkward conversations of those sorts), as well as lots of chocolate.   
  
Nearly exactly a month before, Ginny started as well, and it became a bonding experience of a sort. Her best friend had been more frustrated than angry when Luna sat close to her on the train leaving Hogworts - their heads leaning against each other as they whispered - and wove the tale of what happened at the end of the school year.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me when it first happened - when you first knew something was wrong?” was the red heads initial question.  
  
And Luna had just stared at her for a moment, her mind stumbling on that thought. Because being a Slayer was so very entangled with being _alone_ , and her minds constants companions were beings that had been raised in that thought process. Harry was part of the adventure because her entire task began with trailing him - and Hermione was there because Harry was being lead by the other girl with the Time Turner. ( _And she would always be there - always be nearby to assist, she was his Watcher._ )  
  
"I did not think of it," Luna simply admitted.  
  
Ginny had frowned at her before saying firmly, "You’re my best friend Luna - I care when your run off into danger. Next time think of it." ( _Next time, think of me_ , Luna could hear the words not said almost as clearly as the ones spoken.)  
  
And she knew that she would - Ginny was important to her. Ginny was not family or within her head - she _chose_ to stick beside Luna, she was her friend. Her best friend.  
  
And friendship was important to Lovegoods. She almost felt as if it was a word used with an entirely separate definition within the outside world. ( _There was a difference between friends, allies, and contacts after all - and the same term should not blanket the three_.) Because, it was not something to be thrown around, or said lightly; it was _important_. There was a definite weight to it when you decided that - yes, this person is my friend.  
  
Because once a Lovegood befriended you, you would _always_ be loved - even if you left them, by death or by choice. Luna had exactly three friends: Ginny, Glinda, and Harry. She thought there might be more added to that short list as she grew up but did not exactly expect it - her families reclusiveness and oddity made them a bit hard to get to know for some. And truly, she would not be upset if three was the number that it stayed at.  
  
After all, her father had only ever had four: Terry Sovor ( _a very nice older man with dark skin who wore his bright white hair in braids, who ran a magizoological persevere in Germany. He laughed often and,having known her own, Luna thought of him as her grandfather - he had been her baby sitter whenever it was needed growing up_ ), Alice Longbottom ( _Neville’s Mum who she only knew through Daddy’s pictures. A cheerful but stubborn woman who had been driven insane by Crucitas_ ), Selene ( _her own mother, who had been her Father’s best friend long before they fell in love in a different sense, who had died in their home right in front of her_ ), and Madhukar Patil.  
  
Mr. Patil ( _whom she had always called Uncle Bee because that was the Hindi meaning of his name and when she was little, Luna had had a difficult time pronouncing Madhukar_ ) was a mostly silent partner to her father’s paper. Mostly, because occasionally, Padma and Pravati’s father, would write a recurring column about the racism his family had come up against, and the constant pressure to assimilate into European Wizarding culture - only he would do it almost as a fairy tale of sorts. Specific creatures standing in for political figures and allegories to modern problems amongst a hero’s journey.   
  
Those, “in the know” would clearly recognize what he was saying and all others would continue to dismiss the Quibbler is tripe - it made the publication a safe place for actual magizoologial reporting and biting satire alike. Daddy liked his paper covering such a diverse spectrum and being so confusing to the general public. Most recently he had introduced another column that was breaking new ground, yet again, and becoming a very large hit.   
  
It was entitled: “The Dogstar and The Professor”, authored by those of the same name and jumping through topics such as prison conditions, treatment of different species, the opportunities outside of the Wizarding community - and the Quibbler readership was quite excited to see what they would tackle next. They had an engaging way of writing; witty and serious in turns.  
  
And Luna was happy that Stubby and Professor Lupin seemed to be doing so well - they both seemed to be a bit worn down last time she saw them. And her father must have seen it too, because the particular safe house he sent Harry’s godfather (and later her teacher) to was quite peaceful. They used to go there in the summer often when Mum was alive; it is on unplotabble land, upon warded property.   
  
And that is how it’s always been, vacations and otherwise, Luna does not believe she has been off of magically protected ground her entire life. Her parents have always been _very_ careful about this, very aware of the Watcher’s Councils searches for her kind ( _as Potentials, and now - more seriously - the Slayer_ ). And their gravity in this manner made her aware of it’s great importance, even when she was quite young.   
  
She would perhaps feel more trapped by this careful life, feel stifled by it even, if she didn’t have her Mother right before her, for her first seven years, who had to live within the same lines. Making it all rather normal amongst the Lovegoods - the intense wards on their home ( _creating almost a buzzing always in her periphery_ ) and careful planning for each and every outing, becoming something that their family simply did.  
  
And by the time Mother had passed, Luna had put together a fuller picture of the lives of the women she dreamt of each night. To understand what she was being protected _from_ , the sort of life that she would be forced into.  
  
This particular summer though she doesn’t go to a safe house; and Ginny and her wile away those certain days of the month taking Pain Potions and laying in the large hammock in the Lovegood garden. They watch as the pattern of the sun through the leaves shift with the breeze as their conversation meanders. Gossip, giggling, existentialism, Slayer history, and family antics come up in turn.  
  
When they felt a bit better they make a large pan of mint brownies ( _the fragrant herb picked right from the large bush in the garden_ ) and eat the entire thing between them throughout the day.  
  
She is very grateful for the comfort though, because there are many things troubling her. For one, every time someone mentions the Quidditch World Cup she feels unease curl through her. Not _quite_ a premonition, but a feeling happening too often to brush off.   
  
Luna must admit though, that she is far more distracted by things going on strictly within the landscape of her own mind. Because previously she had thought that her Calling had come to her after the death of the Slayer, Kendra. A young woman fierce and shy in turns that always seemed quite content to let the others steer the conversation until she had specific knowledge to contribute - and with so many, that meant she did not often speak.  
  
But lately there is another that has been breezing through the corners of her mind, like a flickering shadow. Blonde and tan, bright smiles and intense sadness. She gets bits of memory of fighting in a place sunny in the day, and full of graveyards at night, alongside of a core group of people: a middle aged English gentleman with greying hair, in the process of cleaning his glasses - Giles ( _her Watcher and her father far more than her Dad ever was_ ). A younger man with dark hair, quip on the lips - Xander ( _love and comfort, he would do anything to protect her_ ). A woman, the same age, with bright red hair, jumping back and forth between nervous and determined - Willow ( _there for her always, a shoulder to cry on or a spell at the ready_ ).  
  
And Dawn: sister, family, teasing, yelling and bickering on a constant basis and _God oh god, I have to keep her safe. Can’t let Glory take her._  
  
The swan dive is perhaps the clearest and most persistent image projected. Running down the ramp, jumping, arms spread, into a pool of light.  
  
 _My gift_ , there is relief in the mental tone, fulfillment.   
  
The new Slayer always disappears before she can be hailed by the others though - before she even notices them herself probably. Not quite used to being here, flitting through the different planes open to the passed, exploring as only a spirit can ( _Kendra was the same initially before she chose to stay around the comfort of her Sisters._ )  
  
“Tha’s Buffy,” Kendra murmurs to her, as she slides up beside Luna. They both watch as the young woman flickers away again in the dreamscape. “Ah was nex’ in the cycle after her. Met her in Sunnydale.”  
  
“I thought there was only ever one of us at a time?” Luna asked, just as quietly. This brought up so many questions, unraveled so many assumptions she had been holding without knowing they were assumptions ( _because all of the others in her mind, for generations, had held the same knowledge as fact_ ).   
  
What still brought her up short, made her pause, was the presence of a Watcher. The clear sign of Council involvement - the very thing her parents had always attempted to protect her from. She wished she could ask the older girl about it, know if things were different now.  
  
“Special case,” the Jamaican Slayer’s lips quirked, as she answered Luna’s question. “But mos’ things were like that wit, Buffy. She died then ah friend brought her back. Won’ be surprised if it happens like tha’ again.”  
  
“So, did I come after you?” Luna decided it best to ask.  
  
And Kendra shook her head even before she had finished speaking. “There was anotha for a few months before you. A Greek Slayer named Thea. She does not come here often. She was not alive very long after she was Called, killed by Polgaras. It makes her feel shamed that she did not last.”  
  
“That’s not right,” Hazel burst into the conversation, clutching her skirts, scandalized - but on anothers behalf this time. “I trained my whole life but only survived three months once I was Called. That doesn’t make me any less of a Slayer.”  
  
“It doesn’t,” Luna agreed, and heard others echo her. “I do not face the same things much of you went up against, but I am still a Slayer. We are Called, we live, and we die,” she stated simply the knowledge that had been solid within her since she had watched her Mother pass; the simple inevitability of their blood.  
  
“There is still ah gap,” Kendra insisted pulling them all back to the initial conversation. “Anotha’ who should have been next in line.”  
  
“Perhaps she died - but only for a short while - like this Buffy did when you were Called,” Aguta, who had lived in the Artic and still appeared mainly in furs, suggested nodding to Kendra. “That would be enough for Thea and then Luna after her. Correct?”  
  
Many either nodded or shrugged at this but Luna felt troubled by the lack of solid knowledge that was intrinsic to her. The thought of another Slayer out there somewhere. ( _What was her life like?_ )  
  
And she kept her eyes out every night, waiting for the flickering image of the blonde Californian to solidify so that she might get some answers.   
  
But….it never did. And about five months after Buffy started appearing, she stops.


	13. Chapter Three: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.  
> A/N2: I have had a few people ask how (or even if) this story fits into the Buffy cannon and I have been working on bits of this chapter for a while to answer that to my liking. It becomes a bit AU, but hopeful it is not overly confusing.

Luna’s Third Year: In Which There Are Lots of People at the School (and a Tournament)  
  
Part Two:  
  
  
Luna is back at Hogwarts ( _with part of her trunk stuffed with sturdy jeans - bought for her by her Father, on a special excursion into Muggle London department stores, after some helpful owls back and forth with Hermione on what her size would be - and other clothing more suitable for Slaying then her school uniform has been. Daddy has always gotten her the best birthday gifts: the boot knife last year and Slaying clothes this year_ ) by the time Buffy disappears from her dreamscape; the train trip much less eventful without the Dementors.  
  
And truly, she is very grateful that the Quidditch World Cup did not go even more badly than it did, because as distracted as she was, Luna barely gave much thought to it, even though a part of her was distinctly warned that _something_ bad was going to happen. However vague that warning had been.  
  
At school they whisper about it in the hallways: _Was it really Death Eaters or just some prank pulled? Did you hear that Harry Potter’s wand was used to cast the Dark Mark?_  
  
Luna knows it was real for three reasons. One, she could feel for weeks preceding the event that something of the sort would occur. She doubts her Slayer senses would get involved over a prank. Two, the Weasleys had been there - Ginny had seen the beginning of the commotion occurring, seen the Mark in the sky. Heard about much of the other goings on from her brothers.   
  
And third is _Harry_. She trusts him, knows he is not lying - would not lie about something like this, would not play this sort of trick. She knew he was telling the truth even before he sent her an Owl telling her what had occurred.  
  
Luna had gotten many Owls over the summer. It seemed odd to her that she was suddenly the axis of so many people - but she did not mind. Honestly, found it funny that she was a much more social person, sitting at her desk, writing in her room alone, than she ever was in her Ravenclaw dorm surrounded by her Housemates.  
  
And so, she had kept regular correspondence with Harry ( _who kept her up to date on how he used his godfather’s prior imprisonment as a threat to his relatives and - right before he left for the Cup - had asked if she thought dreams were important. It had made her laugh out loud to read even though she was rather sure Harry was asking in all seriousness_ ), Stubby ( _who signed his letters: Sirius - but was not so insistent on his nickname as to mind be called by his real one_ ), and Hermione ( _who after Luna politely but firmly shut down a few leading questions, the subject of their letters became more wide ranging. Then struck into a lively, widely researched, discussion about the rights of sentient beings that lasted many weeks_ ) over the summer. Ginny and Professor Lupin’s were more intermittent - her best friend because she was often over at the Rook anyway and the Professor seemed to be awkward in finding the right tone to address her. Perhaps finding it improper to be corresponding with a former student whatsoever.  
  
His roommate at Bishop, the Lovegood’s tropical safehouse ( _and main retreat, whereas her home, Rook, housed most of the family libraries - underground of course. Both the names of Lovegood properties and the switched purposes, had been the work of an Great Great Grandpa Cyryl_ ), had no such problems. Stubby’s letters (in his surprisingly lovely handwriting) were first effusive with thanks for her particular help - and her family’s continued assistances - and then bursting with questions. He flat out admitted that perhaps he should not be asking such thing of her, but at this point he simply did not care. Everyone else either didn’t know or seemed to want to give him watered down answers so he didn’t worry. But the Lovegood’s always knew how to work in these sorts of situations, and however young, she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders.   
  
What Stubby desperately wanted information about was Harry. He wanted to know what had been happening since he had been stuck in Azkaban, since he had been unable to act as godfather. Had anything happened to Harry at those terrible relatives? What was Hogwarts like now - the cliques and the bullies. How did the rest of the world treat Harry and how was he responding to it all.  
  
Luna had paused and thought for a long time when she had received the initial waterfall of questions. She felt a bit torn, wondering if to tell this man anything would be to go against her friend’s trust - or if informing his godfather would simply be a way to help Harry. Her Sisters were little help in this matter because they were of split opinion - many wanting to burn the letter, ignore this man that was asking too many things, being too nosy. But there were others that were more sympathetic, Slayers that wished for family they never had (would never have) and saw that mirrored here in his desperate plea. The urge this man had to know and care for someone under their protection, someone they were meant to be protecting for years but had prevented by prision, a faulty government.   
  
And it was because of that, because Harry deserved the love this man dearly wanted to give that she wrote back - then continued to do so.  
  
At the moment though, the news of the Tournament fights the gossip mill for room with the old news of the happenings of the World Cup - and old news loses to new.  
  
Because with the Tournament will come two other schools to compete, students to represent these places will spend the year at Hogwarts - on the grounds anyway. Luna rather thinks that in bringing their own transportation, they will have comfortable accommodations onboard - no need to stay inside Hogwarts. And the Slayer part of her murmurs agreement, it is smarter not to give ground unless necessary.  
  
When the day finally arrives, Ginny is by her side, their arms looped together, as they watch the schools come in. Luna gasps and points when the first one comes in sight, and Ginny giggles at her excitement at the flying horses pulling the carriage. What others cannot see is how the Thestrals twirl just beyond being in the way of the carriage, and those who pull it, - as curious about these new creatures as those on the ground are of the new students. And her friend even jumps a bit when the water splits apart and dispels the massive ship holding the Durmstang Institutes group.  
  
When the carriage lands and the ship comes to land to dispels their passengers her arm tightens around her friends’ though.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Ginny whispers.  
  
“Nothing is _wrong_ ,” Luna says vaguely, feeling the sensation other magical creatures’ auras against her skin making her shiver ( _making her want to hunt_ ). “Some of the witches from Beauxbaton aren’t quite the norm English Wizards expect.”  
  
“That’s a bit obvious, Luna,” Ginny snorts, her eyes on the Headmistress.  
  
But that is not who is making her feel agitated, is not the stronger presence amongst this group - the Headmistress is simply part giant, Luna is used to this, knows the feel of her kind well from many classes with Professor Hagrid whom she firmly considers an ally. Luna continues searching the cobalt uniformed students, passing over a few with more minor flares against her aura - and she knows she has found who she was looking for when she lands upon a preternaturally beautiful young woman with shining blonde hair and blue eyes.   
  
Eyes that widen with some strange emotion when they meet hers - an emotion Luna isn't sure she wants to identify even though many in her mind knew it instantly.  
  
“She - was she _scared_ of you?” Ginny, who has been watching out of the corner of her eye the entire time, asks in surprise, voice pitched low even though no one is paying them any mind.  
  
“I don’t know,” Luna replies but unease curls in her belly.


	14. Chapter Three: Parts Three & Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

  
Luna’s Third Year: In Which There Are Lots of People at the School (and a Tournament)  
  
Part Three:  
  
She does not like the Cup itself - it is a lovely magical object certainly, a cup of fire entrancing to the eye, and probably an incredibly complicated magical construct able to make decisions between candidates in a way similar to the Sorting Hat she supposes ( _although Mr. Hat is a much better conversationalist_ )….but she does not like it. ( _And not in the same way she does not like Professor Moody’s class. He is human, she does not doubt that, but what her eyes see do not fit what her other senses tell her and the dichotomy makes her feel almost physically ill - he simply does not feel right._ )  
  
Luna tilts her head watching it carefully from her seated position amongst her fellow Ravenclaws, ignoring their odd looks as she stares unblinkingly at the licking blue flame while the Headmaster gives his speech before the choosing.  
  
 _Choosing._  
  
Perhaps that is it - why she has a feeling of uneasiness about this whole proceeding because “worthy” names of “Champions” are about to be _chosen_ to fight in a dangerous Tournament for gold and pride. Tying them to a contract that they cannot break as soon as they enter their names into a cup.  
  
Breaking it down to the component parts there are only the tiniest of similarities to her own Choosing. But maybe that is still enough to cause this feeling...  
  
Because Luna supposes her name must have been written down by Fate somewhere as soon as she was born, as was her Mother (and so many Slayers - and Potentials - before). They was Chosen, with no want for fame, glory, or riches. Their only hope becoming to try and live as long as possible.  
  
She is shaken out of such morbid thoughts by the flames changing from blue to red and moving about, spiting out the first name. Dumbledore grabbed the bit of paper and declared, “The Champion for Durmstrang will be Victor Krum!”  
  
There were cheers and applause from the whole Hall at the announcement of the boy’s name and when he walked past Luna vaguely recognized his face from the front page of other newspapers. He had something to do with Quidditch she knew - but since her Father, and all of his main contributors, had always had rather more specialized subjects for the Quibbler, such main stream news had always been tangential to her. Picked up in bits and pieces through Ginny or overhearing others’ conversations throughout the day.  
  
The room quieted again as the next name was released from the fire. “The Champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!”  
  
Upon being chosen, the girl who set off her Slayer senses stood, their eyes again meeting ( _that bit of fear rising up before being tucked away_ ) before her back straightened and she swept away. But at least Luna knew her name now, it had been so troublesome to think of her as the lovely blonde French girl - that wouldn’t be right to call her if they ever met (for one it was much too long). Some of her sisters in her mind simply called her Veela but she thought that was rather rude, like if someone simply called her Witch or Human. ( _It didn’t quite count that many in the Forest called her Slayer, that was almost a title, they said it with respect._ )  
  
Everyone knew what came next, whose school had not had a representative chosen yet - and so it felt like a collective breath was being held before the Cup gave up the the final name. And from this last bit of parchment, the Headmaster read, “The Hogwarts Champion is Cedric Diggory!”  
  
Luna almost smiled at the roar of approval that erupted from Hufflepuff’s table. The House so often overlooked was now getting a chance to represent the entire school. And Luna liked Cedric, he had been kind to her on more than one occasion - she had heard him reprimand more than a few other students for the unkind things they said about her ( _one of the very few pleasant surprises her enhanced hearing had picked up in this school_ ). Truly, it was _because_ she found him kind that she wished he was not a part of this - but she could not deny the pride he and his House were taking from the experience ( _and at least it was his choice._ )  
  
She tried to relax then, this part of it at least was over. Except - except, that _wasn’t_ the final name and she felt dread settle into her heavily ( _her muscles automatically coiling tightly in anticipation of the need to fight_ ) when that horrible stupid Cup flared another time. And she knew - oh, Luna knew even before Dumbledore opened his mouth what name he would say - because her friend could never escape being the center of action ( _no matter how much he wished to_ ). His name had been written down by Fate against his will as well.  
  
So, Luna clenched her hands in fists under the table so hard it hurt, and felt like she was watching a terrible accident happen in slow motion as the Headmaster cleared his throat and read out: _“Harry Potter.”_  
  
  
  
Part Four:  
  
  
Happily the day after all of the hullabulla was a Sunday because Luna day was unexpectedly filled with encounters with two of the newly chosen Champions.  
  
Well, one she was certain purposefully searched her out - Harry, she simply ran into in the Owlry while she was mailing a letter to her Father and he to his Godfather.  
  
But once he saw her, Harry seemed very tense about what she would say - and when she simply acted as she always did. Saying "hullo," before greeting her boreal owl ( _which had been dark brow when her Father had brought him back from Sweden the year she was leaving for Hogwarts but had lightened drastically as he matured_ ), Henry who wished to talk to her a bit and be petted before he would take her message.  
  
Finally after both of their owls had flown off Harry pressed her for her opinion on what she thought, if she believed that he hadn't tried to become the Fourth Champion.  
  
And Luna had stared at the boy in front of her blankly for so long he had begun to fidget, but finally began to slowly smile and shake her head almost to baffled for words.  
  
“What?” Harry said defensively.  
  
“You really don’t know, do you?” Luna asked. “I’m sorry,” she said, honestly upset at her oversight in this. “I didn’t intend that to sound mean, Harry. But there is just so much that I grew up feeling like I knew instantly, it is dreadfully hard to untangle sometimes what is in other people’s minds when mine is so very full.” ( _She knew she had already told Ginny when they were both very young and explained to Glinda during one of their patrols about the Dark Forest_ ).  
  
He had tensed, frowning as she spoke, his green eyes wide as he stayed silent - most likely confused. And she simply continued her explanation, not wishing to seem as if she was teasing him now, when the whole school seemed to be acting so very strangely.  
  
“You’re my friend, Harry,” she said simply. “Friends are very important to me, to my family. To us, being friends with someone isn’t just something you say - it is practically the same thing as being family. Perhaps that is why Lovegoods have so few. So, of course I trust you. How could I not? You have no reason to want to put your name in that stupid Cup.”  
  
He stared at her for a long beat before pulling her into a hug - it was abrupt and her arms were a bit in the way, and she giggled as she moved them around him ( _ignoring her sister-Slayer’s gentle teasing_ ). When they broke apart after only a few moments he gave her a shy grin and said, “I’ve never had a family; not one that's alive and doesn't hate me anyhow.”  
  
“Well now you do - Stubby and me are your family,” she said decisively.  
  
***  
  
She spent quite a bit of time speaking with Harry there, sitting upon the hay in the Owlry with light filtered softly through the dust and feathers and only the hoot of owl's murmuring to each other in the background - it felt safe, like a bubble of protected space. And it was a good conversation for both of them Luna thinks. She feels lighter when they leave, and Harry seems to as well ( _which she thinks is an even greater feat given how tense her friend was._ )  
  
Harry goes off to find Ron and she is humming as she wanders off to the Library when another very distinct presence approaches. And she can feel the older girl coming quite some time before even a flash of her preternaturally bright hair appears around the corner of the empty hallway.  
  
This time Fleur’ eyes do not widen when they catch each others - although those blue orbs are plenty wide already with fear tightly controlled - and she is very clearly _making_ herself approach Luna.  
  
She goes still when she realizes this, not knowing what the French witch wants but not wishing to make it more difficult either. As she gets closer and closer, the Slayer part of her could feel _what_ the other girl was even more clearly. Not the lustful effects that the boys fell into in her presence. At it’s roots, this felt avian in nature to her; _feathers_ \- it almost tickled.  
  
She was very pretty though, not at all bird like (even up close), but Luna was more worried about how scared she seemed then her appearance. When she was within a few feet her eyes darted around the hallway making sure it was empty before shuffling forward a bit more to where Luna stood, bowing her head, murmuring in recognition, “ _Tueur_.”  
  
 _Slayer_ , Josette translates seamlessly in her mind. One of the huge pluses of having so many people populate her brain was the ability to understand quite a few languages with barely a pause. Speak them - no; understand - yes.  
  
“I prefer, Luna,” she responds with a smile, hoping to calm the part-Veela.  
  
“I did not know your name,” the Beauxbaton's student, admitted with a blush, her eyes darting up before dropping down immediately again. “I am Fleur,” She took a deep, steadying breath, “I- I ask for zee safety of myself and zee Delacour family if zey are to come later for zee Tournament. We mean no harm,” she ended entreatingly, careful enunciating the last two words.  
  
This was Luna’s first real brush with someone fearing her - and she did _not_ like it. Was uncomfortable with the feeling being directed at her (because of something she was) and simply did not want it to continue. Because of this, she was perhaps slow to respond as she thought through how to approach the situation ( _conversed quickly with Josette, Hazel, and a few others who had covered this ground - geographically -when they were alive or were simply diplomatic in nature_ ) and choose her words carefully.  
  
“Fleur, I understand that there has been some rather bad situations where many Slayers were of the mindset that anything non-human was evil. But please understand that as all witches and wizards are different - and all Veelas - so to are no two Slayers the same. My Father is a magizoologist writer, I knew long before I was Called that there were many variances in the world, and you should not judge a People on what they can do. If you are not purposefully using your abilities to harm, then I have no fight with you.”  
  
Fleur seemed truly startled by this turn of events but did not let it throw her for her a loop for very long. “Truly?” she asked, and when Luna nodded she smiled brightly, a true happy grin that did not brush against her power whatsoever but made her want to smile back simply because the other girl seemed so genuinely happy.  
  
“I have been scared,” she admitted. “I do not like being scared. Zat is perhaps silly to say; non? But zere are stories - old tales zat grandmothers tell, about zee Tueur and how she feels hot to our senses, a burning predator. Never prey. Zee stories tell of what she will do to zee bad Veela who prey upon the wizards simply for zeir own vanity or gold.” Luna was fascinated by these legends of her Sisters told by another group.  
  
"And when I came to zis school I felt you - I felt zee way zat you burned. And I knew zee way it always looks, zat however cold I could act, zere would still be boys falling over zemselves because..."  
  
“Because at this age their is no way for a Veela - or Part-Veela to have full control over their powers,” Luna finished for her. “You’re in puberty, your power is growing and fluctuating as well as finding balance with your magic.”  
  
She giggled at the surprised stare she was receiving, “I told you I was the spawn of a magizoologist. Didn't I?” ( _She also had may Slayers in her mind who had both researched and had contact with the Veela’s but didn’t think that was necessary to add_.) “I haven’t seen you purposefully trying to break up any couples - and I don’t put stock in rumors - so any attraction people are feeling is not something you can control or I have any concern with. Really,” Luna frowned, “if I started worrying about everyone effected by your subconscious aura I’d just be following you about the entire school dousing boys with water.”  
  
Fleur giggled at the mental picture. “You _have_ been keeping an eye on me zen - I am glad I passed your test, Tueur," she gave a mock-curtsey (that was flawless none the less.) "Was zeir a particular boy that you were keeping an eye on his reactions to my Veela charm," she teased, some of her confidence back now that she was no longer terrified. "Someone you did not wish to be broken apart from perhaps?" Fluer questioned with a smile.  
  
"No," Luna responded simply, "I don’t think any boys think of me that way yet - and I haven’t been thinking about them either," she answered bluntly ( _and without any of the blushing or giggling she had never understood why always seemed to accompany this sort of talk amongst her roommates_ ). “Perhaps in a few years but if you know enough to fear me like you did, then you know that it’s unlikely I will live that long."  
  
Fleur gave her a look like she had sucker punched her.  
  
She touched the older girls arm gently, “I’m sorry - I truly wasn’t trying to be shocking, Fleur. I thought that was rather common knowledge about my kind.”  
  
“Oui,” she swallowed roughly, “it is, Little Moon. But as we have spoken and I have looked at you with eyes unclouded by fear.....," She reached up and stroked Luna's hair behind her ear gently, making the Slayer freeze at the unexpected touch. "You - you are not much older then my dear sister, Gabrielle. And it is tragic - a _devastating_ zing to me to imagine one as young as her to live such a life. How old - how old when were you were Called, Luna?" Fleur asked, seeming to brace herself for the answer, as her hand dropped back down.  
  
"Eleven," she whispered, knowing the other girl would not take it well. And watched almost pained as the part-Veela flinched, letting out a hissing sound. Luna was almost glad when she heard some other students approaching their hallway (it was a bit surprising that it had been left to them this long, but then again, it was Sunday) and she pointed in the direction they were approaching.  
  
It only took Fleur a moment to understand and she grabbed her hand and declared, "You must come to zee Carriage! Zee Headmistress was worried when I wanted to approach you alone. She will be very glad you are one so open to our continued presence."  
  
Luna bemusedly let herself be led and asked, "Do you think she'd let me meet the Flying Horses? The Thestrals have been terribly curious about them you know."


	15. Chapter Three: Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

  
  
  
Luna’s Third Year: In Which There Are Lots of People at the School (and a Tournament)  
  
Part Five:  
  
  
"Does your Headmaster know of zee Tueur in his midst?" was the first question Madame Maxime asked as she handed Luna her tea. There had been a quick conversation in French between the Champion and her Headmistress when they first arrived at the Beauxbaton carriage doors ( _that Luna simply stared up at the clouds during, to at least give them the illusion of privacy_ ) - but, after that, the much larger woman had bundled the two of them, along with three other, blue uniform clad girls, who pinged on her Slayer senses into a lovely sitting room that let the light in quite well.  
  
She smiled at the half-giantess as she took the cup even though she knew she would not drink from it - unfamiliar space, unknown people ( _she did not know them to be dangerous but she could not work under the assumption that they were not either. Her Father did not teach her to be so careless, nor was she without warnings from her Sisters_ ). “No, Madame. I have not told Headmaster Dumbledore,” Luna answered the question. “But that does not mean he does not know - I am sure you have heard the rumors of how much he is able to gleam of the comings and goings within Hogwarts. It's almost as if he has the nargles working for him.”  
  
She looked down into the liquid of her cup pensively, seeing in the corner of her eye the incredulous and confused stares being directed at her by some of the other girls and the way Fleur, who was sitting to her right, glared back at them. “I rather think he doesn’t though,” she admitted breaking the moment.   
  
“Pourquoi?” asked the youngest of the girls present in a soft voice ( _and Josette, already at the front of her mind, translates the inquiry seamlessly_ ), pulling at her tawny hair nervously. She felt soft to her senses, malleable - but not in terms of will but in actual _form_. Something about her that made Luna think if she poked her she would give - like clay. A metamorphoses perhaps? _No. Echos of feeling. The child of one, Aguta suggests offhandedly, fiddling with her spear._  
  
"Luna," she hears, this voice seeming both distant and much too loud - paired with a gentle touch to her arm. It is just Fleur, right beside her, but still it is incredibly jolting to Luna - and only her reflexes save her teacup, and she can't help the bit of liquid the sloshes onto the intricate blue and silver rug (or her own sleeve).   
  
She blinks for a moment, coming back to herself - this was one of the aspects of having so many people in her mind, that became troublesome. She tended to become lost sometimes. There would be this lag when she would stare to long or be caught looking for information with Slayers in her brain, or processing all of the sensory (and extra-sensory) information that came at her from so many directions, while people who were physically there became uncomfortable at her unblinking stare.  
  
( _At night it was different; when she was in the Forest, on patrol with Glinda or training with the centaurs, Luna was always moving, never in one place too long, her muscles stretch, her mind becomes sharp and alert. Slayer and girl, are able to breathe deeply and balance there._  
  
Most wrote it off as Loony Lovegood acting as she always did - and in a way they were correct, she cannot truly remember being another way. And to those people (most of the school, nearly all of her House) she does not care about what they thought of her oddities.   
  
With Ginny, they had been together since they were children, and she could spot it quickly when Luna started to "wander" - would usually just casually nudge her or poke her. Could tease her about it a bit now that she knew the cause better, even. But it was hard sort of thing to explain away to others without sounding crazy.   
  
Especially since she wasn't particularly sure she _wasn't_ crazy - she just didn't mind it so much. There _were_ voice in her head after all - and they were a bit violent, even (although no one could really expect Slayers to be any other way _hearty agreement and laughter follow the mental comment_ ).  
  
"Sorry," she said setting, what was left of her tea down, smiling apologetically at everyone. "It is very busy in there-," she gestured to her head with her now free hands. "I go down paths sometime not knowing which will be tangled with brambles or overflowing with gurdyroot."  
  
"Which one is supposed to be good?" Luna heard someone whisper at volume she knew she wasn't supposed to be able to.  
  
"What was the question then?" she asked, ignoring the comment as she usually did such things.  
  
"Jeannine, wished to know why you zought Dumbly-Dorr would not know of you," the Madame repeated in a careful manner, her smile gentle.  
  
It made Luna freeze, and have to push herself to smile back, to continue normally. The over careful manner ground against her - she did not like it when people acted this way. It reminded Luna of how they all look at her after her Mum died, all those eyes staring at her with pity. So very careful of the crazy Lovegood girl who had watched her Mother pass, had been found lying in her blood.   
  
Luna felt a hand wrap around hers and let out a deep breath, and felt her muscles relax a bit, as she squeezed Fleur's hand back gratefully. "While I am sure-" she started speaking and was surprised there were no memories in her voice - neither anger or sadness - she sounded as it always did, "-the Headmaster was more involved with Hogwarts in the past, he seems to often be busy these days. I don’t know with what really, I’m just a student and he is part of so many other important things." Luna suspected it wasn't simply all of those government posts and committees though ( _she had read many investigative articles, submitted to her Father, on the subject - and his distraction also simply made sense given the rising feeling of Dark_ ) and given Maxime's shrewd look she had her own suspicions. "But most of the oversight of the students falls to the Heads of Houses - and Ravenclaw’s is Professor Flitwick. Have you had the chance to meet him?”"  
  
Her expression cleared, she smiled openly. "Yes, he is quite zee charming fellow - and," the Headmistress hesitated, "like us." she ended obliquely.  
  
Luna nodded and hummed a quite note to herself as she looked down, studying the tea stain on the rug. “He is part goblin, a bit back,” she said bluntly and the girl who had been whispering earlier gasped. She tuned her head curiously at the sound ( _and was rather pleased that Kendra was able to quickly to identify the water nature about the, dark haired, girl with pretty glasses, as River Mumma - a generation or two back. All of these girls seemed to be a mixture of witch and magical creature, but none except for their Headmistress was the direct descendant of such a pairing._ ) “It is not exactly secret,” she shrugged, "but I would still ask that you not gossip or say mean things," Luna frowned thinking of what was said about her at time - without anyone knowing of her true differences. "I'm very fond of him - and he has a lot of respect at Hogworts."  
  
Madame Maxime nodded and glared at her students in such a way Luna knew this order would be followed. “So he knows you?” she asked simply when her brown eyes came back to rest upon Luna once again.  
  
"Yes," Luna said, she was rather sure of this after their interaction last year while she had been walking Professor Lupin back to his rooms. "And there are others within the staff who watch my back," she thought particularly of Professor Hagrid who had previously provided her with weapons for her patrols in the Forest. She had sent him a note this year - their first direct communication outside of class - letting him know that she had stashed an axe in the woods. Luna was pleased, in a slightly vindictive way she had to admit, to continue to use the Executioner's axe, she had stolen, as her own. Plus once she heard, the other two schools were coming, Luna had rather thought it would probably be unsafe for Hagrid to continue to leave weaponry unattended.  
  
But Madame Maxine seemed particularly pleased at her response and it intrigued her.  
  
Luna considered the elegant woman for a moment before asking, "You think this is better. You do not think I should tell the Headmaster - do you?"  
  
"Non," the Headmistress, answered swift and decisive, nearly before the question had been finished, her voice hard. When all of the girls turned to her, eyes wide, she softened looking over her flock in blue, gently before she landed upon Luna again. “Petite Tueur," she began, before continuing in her heavily accented English, “you are strong – I do not doubt your kinds strength – but it is a mantle of strength not borne by a proud minority group, such as zee Veela or even zee werewolves. You are a singular being, reoccurring through zee ages. _Singular_ ,” she repeated, her eyes sad. “And no matter how strong you are, a singular being can be crushed by a throng. What you must understand of zee Wizarding World, la Lune. Is zat it is not a gentle place to zat which is different - it picks apart and destroys what it does not understand, what it cannot control."  
  
Luna had been silent through the entire speech, held herself very still, and let it sink into her brain for a long moment after.  
  
She let her eyes meet the half-giantessess' before her. “But what if I am not singular?” she asked.  
  
“There is only _one_ Tueur," she responded, looking down upon her, sad but sure. Fleur squeezed her hand again, as if in comfort over the fact.  
  
Luna regarded her calmly, not disputing this despite the fact that she suspected quite differently from her Dreams, despite how very _full_ she was of the many who had come before her. She simply smiled slightly, tilting her head to the side a bit as she asked, “Can a Slayer not have allies, Madame?”  
  
And the Frenchwoman's solemnity shifted, a grin breaking out to match her own. “You have been collecting comrades, Slayer Lune?”  
  
She hummed a bit, “I prefer friends actually – but I think I’ve picked up a few of both.”  
  
Fleur laughed then, the tinkling sound filling the room, her hand releasing Luna's own - but only for the moment it took to loop around her shoulders. "It is true Madame," Fleur said jovially, "I wished only to make proper introductions to zee Tueur so the presence of my family and I would not cause friction. But, as you can see, Luna is a very interesting conversationalist. I fear Gabrielle will become quite attached."  
  
The Headmistress just smiled and shook her head at them as she took another sip of her tea and Luna grinned, leaning into the older girl's side as talk moved onto the Tournament, flying horses, and other things.


	16. Chapter Three: Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

  
Luna’s Third Year: In Which There Are Lots of People at the School (and a Tournament)  
  
Part Six:  
  
  
The Forest has calmed in the past few hours, since the dragons hours tapered off. Luna walks through it slowly today, tries to let that sense of calm bleed into her, let all of her stress out into the trees who can do something productive with her tension filled air.   
  
It was a few days after her discussion in the Beauxbaton Carriage that the Library is quiet enough for her to talk to Ginny about it. Her friend listens carefully and is openly amused that despite the rather heavy conversation, the part Luna was most obviously excited to tell her about was getting to groom the pegasi.  
  
She can tell all through her tale though that, although her best friend is listening very attentively ( _is curious about the students from the other school - and Fleur particularly who has often been followed in Hogwarts by so many whispers, either admiring or jealous_ ) she has big news as well.   
  
And when Luna is done speaking, it almost explodes from her ( _whispered excitedly into her ear, but the intention is the same - and they are in a Library, after all_ ): Charlie is at Hogwarts! He arrived last night and will be able to see them today.  
  
Luna knew from her patrols the previous night that dragons were being hidden in the Forest - and thought they must be for the Tournament ( _although far from sure of the fact_ ). She had kept away from the Dragon Keepers, seen in the distance, though so as not to even chance being spotted.   
  
Now knowing who is here though - well, Ginny’s smile is _huge_ and Luna knows that hers must match. Growing up, Charles was basically their favorite person in the whole world (their parents excluded, of course).  
  
Because of all of the Weasley boys who were given the task to look after their younger sister - and usually by proxy her best friend - he was the one who never made it seem like a chore, never tried to pretend to be too cool for the task, or too old to interact with them ( _or try out tricks or products on them - as the twins only did to her once. It ended up reacting badly, making her quite sick, but the lasting result was Ginny and Mrs. Weasley being rather furious at them._ )   
  
Oh no, Charles played _with_ them.  
  
He would be a magical creature they were in search of or a steed to ride to the castle in one of their make believe games. He never scolded them for climbing trees but instead showed them how to do it _better_ \- built them a fort in the woods between the Lovegood and Weasley homes when Ginny and her were seven.  
  
She - well, she loves that fort _very_ much. Not only because of the many days Ginny and her have spent playing and whispering secrets in it ( _going past childhood in to teenagerdom now_ ) but because of the protection it gave her _that_ day.  
  
He always treated her like just an extra little sister, never teased her or made her feel unwelcome ( _and for a girl who must grow to slowly figure out that her family name is nearly a source of ridicule within her community because their beliefs are different than the norm, that is a blessed relief_ ) but she did not know how truly he meant it until he came home when her Mother died.   
  
She supposes Ginny Owled him because she remembers both Weasley parents looking surprised when he had come to the funeral late. She learned later that he had lied at Hogworts, claiming family emergency. Mrs. Weasley had been cross - it was his final year and there were so many tests he was in the middle of studying for - but everyone could see that she understood, was only upset out of worry and heightened emotion from the loss of her neighbor and friend.   
  
But in that moment when she first noticed him across the graveyard, she had simply stared with her overly dry eyes ( _far too cried out to do so anymore_ ) and felt immensely comforted by his presence. After the ceremony, she had run off into the woods, had hid in a the fort with Ginny where she knew he - and no one else - would bother them. And when he did, Charles climbed up too ( _not caring about his good Prefect robes_ ) and they sat there together ( _a bit squished in a structure made for people when they were all much smaller_ ) until she was ready to go home. Back to a house with no Mother. Where the blood stain in front of the Floo had been cleaned away but that still held the smell of Death to her enhanced senses.  
  
So, she will always hold Charles rather close to her heart.   
  
Even before her Mother passed he had been particularly special to Luna too because he is one of the only people who never shut her down when she spoke of the odd creatures her father searched for so ardently - not only _tolerating_ but listening and engaging her in conversation. Who, in fact, encouraged her interests and truly seemed to be happy to have someone who would listen to _him_ talk of dragons - his families haven gotten bored of his singular interest long ago. ( _Having never understood that it was his passion, that it could be anything other than a hobby._ )  
  
He had written Luna only a handful of times since landing his dream job ( _never one good at Owling - she had heard Mrs. Weasley bemoaning this fact of all of her children_ ) - but, his first letter had proclaimed that her believing he could do it was the main reason he was even there. That everyone else just expected him to join the Ministry like his Father or the Bank like Bill. And then when he looked down at the application for the Romanian Reserve he nearly couldn’t imagine living that far away, nearly didn’t think it would be worth it.   
  
But he had thought of her then - had said that he never forgotten that moment in the garden when he asked her what she wanted to grow up to be. She had taken a long time to answer, and he had nearly believed that she had simply not heard while wandering the rows, picking string beans, but then she had tilted her head towards him and solemnly proclaimed, _“Old.”_   
  
And when he asked her what she thought he would be; he expected the same sort of pause, the same cryptic answer - but there hadn’t been at all. She had laughed, spinning to look at him full on ( _dropping a good many beans from where she held them in her dress_ ) before answering right away, _“What a silly thing to ask Charles! As if it was ever a question. You’ll be a Dragon Keeper of course!”_ Just so very sure of this statement of fact that he couldn’t bring himself to question her of his apparently fated future. He hadn’t really wanted to anyway - it was what he wanted more than anything.  
  
Hogworts has is own magic and is fond of using it as it sees fit, likes a sense of timing to things - and it is nearly as soon as Ginny tells her that her brother is _here_ that those brown eyes dart to something behind Luna and go wide. Seconds later a pair of hands cover her field of vision.  
  
“Guess who’s gotten permission to take his two favorite girls out to lunch?” a very familiar voice asks from behind her.  
  
“Oh dear,” Luna murmurs, not at all bothered by the makeshift blindfold ( _even her sister-Slayers are giggly instead of worried by his presence a slightly bizarre change of pace for them she decides not to ponder_ ). “I’m terrible at these sort of things. Ginny has banned me from guessing games on the premiss that it takes too long. But I still think that it is best to be thorough. Can I make a query? Is the being corporal or non-corporal? Ghost are wonderful to talk to but I’d rather it be a physical being if we are to eat a meal.”  
  
Charles let out a loud bark of laughter and removed his hands from her eyes, only to pull out her chair from the desk and yank her body from it, spin her up and into a hug. She feels weightless and happy, it makes her laugh loud and joyful. She can hear Ginny giggling, almost uncontrollably, in the background.  
  
“Oh, I’ve missed you two,” he says quietly before letting her down. People are staring but none of them care.  
  
They are, naturally, all promptly kicked out of the Library by Madame Pince. However the forbidding lady seemed to be hiding a grin under her stern expression so Luna did not think they were permanently banned.  
  
In the hallway, Charles looped each of their arms in his, in a rather gentlemanly manner ( _slightly ruined by how hard they were all having to keep down laughter_ ), and started to lead the way to the exit.  
  
She squeezes his arm a bit to get his attention. “Charles,” she sees his lips twitch at the use of his given name that she know not even his Mother calls him (except when he is in trouble).   
  
“Yes, Moon-girl,” he asks, letting their arms unlink and swinging her arm in wide loops, going less formal with her name where she has always automatically gone more. People give them room in the hallway, simply out of the necessity of trying not to get hit. Ginny gives up and giggles at their interaction.  
  
But she is not to be deterred from her question. ”You mentioned a certain someone - we have not yet determined - getting permission for us to go to lunch. May I presume that that someone asked Professor McGonagall?”  
  
“You may,” he said inclining his head in a mock-regal fashion, to keep pace with their formal language. “And they had a _very_ nice conversation with her."  
  
“I think she missed you, Charlie,” Ginny notes, now in control of her amusement. “You were both her Prefect and Seeker. And you know the way to get to our dear leader’s Scottish heart is through her Quidditch.”  
  
“I’m not a Gryffindor, Charles,” Luna interrupts, continuing what she was saying before they get too far and end up leaving the premises. He stops, looking at her - she stares back blandly, raises a single eyebrow, and taps the Ravenclaw patch on her uniform with a finger of her free hand. Ginny snorts and then raises a hand to cover her grin at her “worldly” brothers dumbfounded expression.  
  
He glares at his little sister before turning back to her. “Do you think Flitwick will have a problem with it?" he asks.  
  
"He'll probably be fine with it, but we should go ask my Head of House on the way through. It is only polite to do so before you go off kidnapping one of his Third Year girls after all," she smiles up at him demurely and Charles gives another bark of laughter that echoes quite loudly in the stone hallway before pulling them along to the Charms classroom.  
  
The small Professor is quite fine with it indeed - but the detour ends up making their lunch a bit late, pushes more into an early supper. But it is a very happy affair none the less. They fall back into the same sort of jokes and word play of those long summers and there never seems to be a moment when she is not smiling.  
  
It makes her even more angry then to remember what came next - the First Task of the Tournament. The way she had felt so torn watching in the stands with Ginny. Felt such empathy for all involved as she was viewed the terrible spectacle through horrified eyes: the Champions who had no say in what would be put before them ( _but could not, at this point, break away from the path. No, longer had the choice to say, “No.”_ ), the dragons themselves - brought so far from their home only to be placed in an arena with screaming people surrounding them and have a witch or wizard attempt to steal their eggs through magic, skill, or trickery ( _and she had been doubly horrified to find out that all of the dragons had been nesting mothers_ ), and the Keepers who had been asked to bring those in there care here from the Reserve and now must try to make the best of it, try to care for them and soothe the poor things who were in such bad conditions. Because all dragons were at reserves for a reason - they were _endangered magical creatures_ \- it sickened her to see them treated in such a way for entertainment.   
  
To throw Harry ( _the boy who was one of her few friends, her family_ ), Fleur ( _the girl who she had only just met but already knew how much she loved her sister, how much she wished to be seen for herself and not her body_ ), Cedric ( _who she had never spoken to but had been kind to her in indirect ways simply because he was that way to everyone_ ), and Viktor ( _a young man she did not know as others do for his sports accomplishments but saw often in the Library and it made her think that his interests might be a bit more diversified_ ) in front of them as if nobody’s - Champion or dragon’s - life mattered.   
Everyone was disposable.  
  
Even after the Task is over, Luna is unable to relax, unable to go with Ginny and join the celebration. She just...cannot.  
  
There are such crowds everywhere that she is able to sneak away into the Forest even though it is not yet night. She starts wandering and trying to get herself to breathe properly again.   
  
Trying not to cry ( _she has not truly cried since she lied down next to Mum_.)  
  
Perhaps this is effecting her so because of the parallels of the Champions to other “Chosen” that she had pondered before. Maybe that is why it hurts so to see their lives - and the lives of other sentient creature - thrown around so recklessly.   
  
Because she _knows_ how little a Slayer's life is worth to the Council, to the Powers. There is always another Potential girl to be Chosen. And in this, the presence of her Sisters is a hurt - because their very existence proves this point. It a very visible representation of how many have passed before her.   
  
Dusk sets in and Glinda approaches her, nosing her side. Luna sighs and throws an arm around her friend, burying her head in the Thestral’s smooth neck and feels her wing bend to fold over her in a hug, the claw on the end scraping her shoulder gently.   
  
Glinda makes a sound - somewhere between a coo and a death rattle, honestly, but she knows it is meant to comfort.   
  
“It’s just been a bit of a week, Glinda,” she murmurs. “And I don’t think it’s going to get even a tad bit calmer.”  
  
She gives an amused snort in agreement that makes Luna giggle and pull away to look up at her.   
  
“Well,” she says in a no nonsense fashion, clapping her hands, “we can’t be getting lazy.” A rolling of eyes shows how amused (Glinda is _not_ ) at being included in that statement, and Luna’s lips twitch as she tries to remain serious as she continues. “Let’s do a quick patrol and then visit the Anglia - I think the poor car gets lonely you know.”


	17. Chapter Three: Part Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

  
  
Luna’s Third Year: In Which There Are Lots of People at the School (and a Tournament)  
  
Chapter Three: Part Seven:  
  
  
She sees Hermione approaching her in a determined manner while she is perusing the bookshelves. Luna is finished with her homework for that day and only waiting for Ginny to get those last few paragraphs done on her Potions essay. ( _They were, happily, let back in to the Library again by Madame Pince - after only a firm talking to and a promise to be on their best behavior for the rest of the year._ )  
  
She does not let on that she notices the the older girl and continues to let her finger drift gently across the spines of the books on the Goblin Wars. It is a woefully small selection - with all of the choices here only being by Wizard authors too. No way, with the bias she has seen always being so blatant against non-human magicals, that students would to get a full picture of the toll it took on _both_ sides, what the treaty meant for _both_ parties.   
  
Luna frowned, the part of her that was simply a girl raised by a journalist, who cared deeply about his work, was thoroughly displeased by this. Most of her Sisters are more pragmatic. Are, after death, with their shared memories like pools of knowledge for all to pull from, able to see things on a longer scale and know quite well that it is a truism of _every_ war that it is the victor that will shape the narrative of history.  
  
And anyway, they are used to lives lived in the shadows, an entire existence - where they fight to protect a world that will never know them - the only record that they even walked upon this Earth ( _prowled the cemeteries, struck down demons, stopped apocalypses, simply made nights safer_ ) the small diaries that their Watcher kept.  
  
Luna has no Watcher.   
  
There is no diary of her exploits ( _past, present, or future - if she is to ever have one_ ).   
  
She has never paused to think how she will be remembered, years on - what her history is to be. The Watchers Council has only ever been something to stay hidden from and there has never been dissent on this from her sister-Slayers. They all may have been an integral part of the Council for centuries - but it had never been by _choice._   
  
Taken and trained - it was not an easy life for them. And they had lived within her mind for so long that they thought of her as _theirs_ \- they did not want the Council to take her ( _where startling vehement in this_ ). They agree strongly with how far her Father has gone to insure this, are very fond of him for what he had done to protect both Mother and her.   
  
But Luna must admit, from what she has seen in her Sister’s memories, they _were_ good at record keeping.  
  
A hand firmly taps her on the shoulder - startling her back to her present with an almost audible snap of her senses. Her response then, is perhaps especially intense given her current train of thought being rather close to Council things - they were such a formative organization to her life, to her coming into being truly. The very reason she has lived as she has. Going from hidden place to hidden place. Wards around her always. As a little girl, before she had a greater understanding of what it was, and only caught bits of whispered conversations - saw the way her parents would grow tense when a man in tweed walked by - _“the Council”_ had been her bogeyman far more than any fanged or clawed monster.  
  
So, in this heightened state, as soon as the fingers tap her shoulder all of Luna’s muscles tense, her hand snaps up and catches that which touched her and she is turning her body and just about to reach for her boot knife, with her other hand, when time seems to become normal again. She is twisted enough then, to see who’s hand is tightly held in hers and tries to casually lower her foot to the ground as if she was not about to extract a weapon from her footwear.   
  
“Sorry, Hermione. You startled me,” she admits, swinging the other girl’s arm _very_ gently, in a now loose grip.   
  
“I - It’s alright,” her smile is awkward, Hermione seems taken aback and - in an out of character manner, at a loss for words. She does not seem like she quite knows what to do _both_ with the situation that just occurred or with the fact that Luna doesn’t feel like giving up her hand yet. Has flipped it over now and is investigating her palm closely.   
  
Luna, herself, doesn't want to make Harry’s Watcher feel uncomfortable but - well, she _is_ rather curious of her too.  
  
“Palm Reading doesn’t really work,” the curly haired girl blurts out suddenly.  
  
“I don’t rule it out,” Luna responds, not necessarily rebuking the comment, but taking a middle ground of sorts. “The possibility that you can find out information about a person - possibly their future, even - through their body seem valid to me. Or at least an avenue that should be studied,” she shrugged, releasing her hand reluctantly ( _she rather craved contact. Ginny understood and they always had their arms linked as they walked together, leaned against each other as they did their homework, or cuddled on the couch - it had become second nature. She was trying to ease Harry into being comfortable with a level of it as well but that was slow going for a boy not really used to, much of any, such friendly touch_ ).   
  
Hermione, had lowered her hand back slowly and didn’t seem to have an answer right away to her rejoinder so Luna simply continued. “I wasn’t trying to read your palm anyway. I was more interested in you calluses.”  
  
“Oh,” she looked down, seeming to become instantly shy in bearing ( _nearly insecure, even_ ) at the mention of her physical features, even such a passing mention. Hermine was looking down at her own hands and blushing. “Well - you see -I -”  
  
Luna frowned at this behavior, not liking the change in the girl normally so confidant. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Look, I have calluses, too. They’re nothing to be ashamed about - quite the opposite. They’re just marks on your skin that show the work you’ve done.”  
  
Belatedly she remembered that while Hermione’s calluses were distinctly along the interior of her fingers from where the quill would rub, when writing for long hours and on the edges of particular fingers from turning so many thousand of pages ( _researcher’s hands_ her Father had called them once with a laugh before tickling her) - hers were….. rather _different_.   
  
“Why do you have them going across the middle of your hand?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows knitted together as she delicately traced the hardened skin with a single finger. Luna bit her lip as she tried to decide what to say - because admitting they were from her frequent use of an axe would just lead to many more questions that were not fit for this open environment.  
  
“Hermione,” she said in a quiet tone, and brown eyes flicked up from looking at her hand to meet her gaze, “perhaps not _here_.”   
  
Those eyes widened the moment that understanding hit. “Of course,” she said briskly, straightening up, becoming no nonsense and confident once again. "There were important things I wished to speak with you about as well."  
  
  
***  
  
  
The Gryffindor girl begins to speak of the rights of House Elves in a very authoritative manner as soon as they have found an empty unused classroom. Luna, listens with only half an ear ( _and what a funny turn of phrase that is - she is surly giving Hermione full use of both her ears, but only very little of her attention_ ) but truly she is rather happy for the change in subject - although she does not think Hermione has forgotten ( _the Watcher is probably considering the problem more. Stalling._ Disa mutters, polishing her own axe. _They're tricky that way._ ).   
  
And anyway she has already heard about this S.P.E.W. through Ginny - the only thing troubling, is to see how animated Hermione becomes, she had not known the other girl had gotten this emotionally invested in this cause.  
  
So, she lets Hermione say her entire spiel before she even attempts to respond. She doesn’t believe she would be able to get a word in before hand anyways - she is, after all, rather _intense_ on a subject.  
  
“I agree with some of your points,” Luna says,when she sees and opening, and sees Hermione smile bright, “but not _all_ ,” she finishes,” and the expression collapses. “I believe you are not fully informed.”  
  
“What - but _Luna_ \- from our letters this summer. We talked so much about the rights of sentient creatures. I thought _you_ , of all people, would be of the same mind as me on this,” she scowled at her, hands on her hips.  
  
Luna tried not to smile at the other girl's anger and simply shook her head, sighing instead. “Only, if it is what _they_ want. It comes down to _choice_ , Hermione. Have you _talked_ to the House Elves?”  
  
“Of course,” she said sharply. "I went down to the Kitchens."  
  
“And?” Luna promoted but the other girl seemed reluctant to answer. She sighed, yet again, truly starting to feel a bit frustrated now. “Perhaps this would be easier to explain to you if someone was here to represent.”  
  
"What?" Hermione tries to ask.  
  
However, at the same time Luna simply called out, " _Basil_ " to the dusty air and the House Elf who, contrary to his name, did little with food, instead worked primarily with clothing repair, appeared with a pop. That was of course the reason she had gotten in contact with him previous years ( _after asking around amongst the other Elves_ ) - the disrepair her uniforms had often gotten, quite a bit out of hand, from her constant patrols, before she acquired suitable clothing for the activity.  
  
He was more put together then many of the other Elves - but most of those who worked in the broadly named "Fabric Repair" department of the castle where better dressed simply because they worked with cloth on such a constant basis that even though their clothes were from scraps and cast offs, they were still very well tailored.   
  
"Miss Luna," Basil acknowledged with a nod of his head smiling up at her. "What do you need, Miss?" But then his eyes caught sight of Hermione and he backed away a step, almost seemed as if he might Pop away again.  
  
Luna glanced over at her, and saw that she had noticed the reaction too. "Hermione," she tried to ask, very gently. "What did you do?"  
  
" _Nothing_ ," the curly haired girl, said defensively but her eyes fell back to the House Elf who was still very tense to be in her presence. "I’ve - _perhaps_ \- been leaving knitted socks for them to find,” she admitted in a whisper.  
  
Luna sighed a third time, and this little expression of annoyance makes the other girl snap, a definite fire in her eyes now. “The others didn't get it, but - I thought - well, I thought that _you_ would understand. When we Owled this summer, you seemed so well read on-,”  
  
“ _Hermione_ ,” she says quietly, but emphatically, trying to break in, “have you asked them what they want,” she asks again.  
  
“Yes,” she muttered, looking down sullenly.   
  
“And?” Luna prompted gently.  
  
“It’s just because they don’t know what they could have,” she said her eyes, going from Luna’s over to Basil’s beseechingly. The House Elf moved behind Luna’s legs so as not to be within her line of sight. She gave her own sigh of frustration, "Dobby is free - is proud to be a Free Elf. Went years going around and demanding wages for his work!"  
  
“Did you ever ask Dobby why he didn’t stay away, once he had his freedom? Why he kept trying to get work at Wizarding homes - even if it was for pay? Why he didn’t just work for himself, live in the Forest, or somewhere else away from magical society?”   
  
“No,” Hermione said quietly, as if she had never considered this.  
  
“He _had_ to,” she explained, wishing - not for the first time that Hogworts curriculum was more complete, did not make assumptions on the knowledge of all students, considered this sort of information on other magical creatures worth teaching. "It is a bond between an Elf’s magical core and a Witch or Wizard’s. A bond that is badly used by many - but it _is_ a bond none the less. One that an Elf _needs_ to live.”  
  
There was only silence in the room for a long time. "No one told me," Hermione finally manged to say, she seemed purely frustrated now. Her gaze seemed again pulled to Basil, she attempted to look around Luna's legs to apologize, "I-I'm sorry if I scared you or -"  
  
"It's alright, Miss, we Elves haven't been harmed none," Basil interrupted her, stepping forward. She seemed surprised by this sudden confidence and Luna hid a grin. But Basil was old, the head of his department, and had been a part of Hogworts for a _very_ long time ( _if the stories the other Elves told while they patched her skirts were true - and she had no reason to think they weren't - he had been the Grey Lady's Elf_ ) he was rather secure with his position here. His earlier fear was over someone carelessly severing that bond, taking it away by an accident of misinformation.   
  
"Why didn't anyone else say anything? I must have looked like a fool," her face was flushed darkly both in shame and embarrassment.  
  
Luna walked forward a few steps and leaned against the desk next to her. "The only people who would know enough to explain it to you fully, where those who were from old families - or perhaps had parents who studied magi-zoology - I have both," she added with an exaggerated wink that broke the mood a bit and made Hermione giggle despite herself.  
  
"I think, in your House, the only person that might have known these things is Neville. And you tend to be a bit -,"  
  
“Pushy, loud, know-it-all," Hermione listed off on her fingers, making Luna frown internally ( _the women in her mind were starting to become displeased as well with how she put herself down_ ).   
  
On the outside, she continued to grin, "None of those traits are bad in the right circumstances, you just need to remember to listen as well. And this time you did," she notes.  
  
"I'm going to get back to work, Ms. Luna, Ms. Hermione," Basil said.  
  
"Oh, yes - of course. I'm sorry for disturbing you," Luna knelt down. "Before you go though, sir. I apologize for asking - but you feel familiar to me. Have you’ve been to one of the Lovegood places?" she asked on a hunch. They tended to hum with their own sort of magic, the warding holding it's own tune.  
  
He smiled widely then, the grin nearly taking up his small face, going from ear to ear. "I have Ms. Luna. Your Great Grandmother invited us Hogworts Elves to summer in the less populated properties. I often chose _Knight_. It is a very pretty place."  
  
She smiled back sadly, thinking about the lovely gardens and greenhouses that were the majority of _Knight_ \- the magical plants there that were harvested and helped fund the Quibbler and other things. "It is," she murmured. "But I have not been back there in many years." Not since Mum - Dad nor her could quite bear it. She had loved those gardens so very much.  
  
She said her goodbyes then and stood, turning to face Hermione. "Your family owns House Elves?" was the question shot at her, her face conflicted with the information she now knew.  
  
"In a way - yes," Luna answered, matter of factly. "There are none that live in our home or do the day to day tasks for my Father and I, but there is a bit more to consider. We have inherited quite a large amount of property from our Lovegood forefathers and mothers - and being just two people we cannot care for it all. For one, there is an entire nature reserve - with endangered animals, of both magical and mundane sort, that has been with my family for centuries. With many of the creatures, it would be dangerous for both the human and the beast if we were to tend to them - the Elves have their own sort of protective magic and we allow them to use it freely."  
  
"Most don't treat them like you," Hermione sat upon a desk, and looking down at her shoes. "I can see that there are those like Basil who are happy as they are. And there are people like your family who treat Elves who are bonded to them right - but - but -," she ran a hand through her hair in frustration, becoming more irritated when it got caught in her curls. "It isn't always like that is it? It's usually more like how Dobby used to have it with the Malfoy's - isn't it?" her brown eyes came back up and speared Luna, begging for information.  
  
Luna could not lie to that direct gaze, but she did not really have an answer either, "I don't know. I have not been everywhere, Hermione. I can only tell you what I do know about this - how you were going about it all a tad bit wrong," the other girl snorted at her understatement, looking away again.  
  
"If you feel this strongly," she offered, "you could write about it in my Father's paper. He will often take editorials on such things - the rights of the under-served are one of the things he always tries to highlight. And it would be good practice if you wish to petition for these things to be set into Law someday."   
  
"Doesn't you father own the _Quibbler_?" she asked, her nose scrunching up.  
  
Luna stared at her flatly, until she looked back at her, and when she did Hermione flinched away form her suddenly cold gaze. Luna often tried to let most things roll off her back but she did not take attacks upon her Father very lightly. "Have you actually read the Quibbler, Hermione?" she asked.  
  
"No," the brunette said quietly.  
  
"Then perhaps you should not take hearsay as truth," Luna said flatly before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. This time she clearly sensed Hermione approaching, was not surprised when she gently placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry - I- I will look into your Father's paper, Luna," she opened her eyes and met the girl's gaze - she was being truthful, Luna decided. And so she returned the smile Hermione was attempting to bring forth.  
  
Hermione sat down in the chair next to the desk she was perched on top of, she still seemed very tentative after how many times she was thrown off today. Luna almost felt sorry for her.  
  
"Your Father - was he Ravenclaw as well?" Hermione asks her then, almost blatantly trying to make up for her blunder. And it makes he grin because she knows how much the answer will surprise the other girl.  
  
"No - Slytherin," she answered easily and then laughed loudly at the open mouthed response this had caused.  
  
"If it helps - from what I’ve heard - they did not like him very much," Luna admitted. "We might be from an Old House but we're not exactly _Pure_. And if people tend to find _me_ odd - well, I have heard flamboyant as the most polite way to describe the way he dresses and his interest in magizoology started early."   
  
"Then why, Slytherin?" Hermione asked, her elbow leaning against the desk. "I know the Hat chooses, but what you described doesn't sound like it was much of a fit."  
  
Luna hummed looking out the classroom window for a long moment before answering. And when she spoke it was in a whisper. "It _usually_ is not there, there is usually no _reason_ for it to be. But _sometimes_ it is obvious that Daddy lacks a - stop-gate, I suppose the right word is," she frowned, not quite liking the term, and so attempted to describe it better. "Something that would tell him that he should not do this thing that is dangerous. He is a writer by trade - so, it is only really apparent when someone he loves is in danger, when he must protect us - me now," she corrects herself.   
  
She looked back at Hermione, "You have it a bit too"  
  
"Wha-," the other girl started, obviously startled by this assertion. "I’m Gryffindor-" she started.  
  
"I know that silly," Luna smiled at her, softly. "I’m just saying that if Harry were in trouble there isn’t _anything_ \- anything at all - you wouldn’t do to help him is there?" she asked ( _she knew the answer but a part of her felt testing in this question. Many of the Slayers who had had bad past experiences wanting to make sure that Harry had a good Watcher in this girl_ ).   
  
Hermione bit her lip and looked down, pulled out her wand, but simply held it between both of her hand and stared at it. “No," she whispered finally, sounding as if she were admitting something. "Your right, I would do _anything_."  
  
Luna leaned over the small space between them and gently placed her hand over the other girl's. “Im not saying its a _bad_ thing. I love my Father very much - and _I_ would do anything for him too. But I just worry about him,” she admits.  
  
"Why," Hermione asked tentatively, putting her wand away with one hand, and turning the other hand over. Entwining their fingers slowly, as if unsure if it was all right ( _and it occurred to Luna to wonder if, outside of the chaotic back and forth of Harry and Ron, Hermione had many friends either_ ).  
  
"I don’t know what he might do if something happened to me - _when_ something happens to me," she admitted with a wince. "Without Mother around anymore I - I just don’t know how he would react, what lengths he would go to-”  
  
"Without your Mother?" Hermione interrupted, very quietly - obviously curious but not wanting to offend or hurt her. But Luna was not hurt by this question, she was almost surprised Hermione did not already know. It was such a part of herself, such a known thing about her family within the smaller Wizarding community in this part of the world. ( _But did you not already say that you wished assumptions were not made of knowledge,_ Hazel said with something much too high class to be a smirk. Luyu hit her for being a brat at such an inopportune moment.)  
  
"Mum is dead," she simply said quietly, and the hand against hers seems to tighten, almost automatically, in support. And it was oddly cathartic to tell this to someone in her own words. With Harry it had been talked about in passing - it was another thing that connected them, yes. But neither of them had wished to dwell upon it at the time.   
  
But Hermione, in perhaps a morbid way, always wished to know more. And so she told her all about her Mother's death in a way, in such detail, she had not done with anyone before. Perhaps because once the Auroras had been called, everyone else immediately had known what had happened and never wished to remind her ( _"..that little girl found curled up next to her Mother's body, clothes' soaked in her blood - Merlin, how long had she been there? Can you even imagine? It's no wonder she's crazy."_ ) so she was never asked about it directly. People eventually would speak of Mum to her - but never _that day_ , never about the accident.  
  
When she was done, it was Hermione that had tear tracks on her face but Luna felt so much lighter - and their hands were still clutched together tight.


	18. Chapter Three: Part Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.  
> A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

  
  
  
Luna’s Third Year: In Which There Are Lots of People at the School (and a Tournament)   
  
  
Chapter Three: Part Eight:

   
  
  
Harry blinked at her, looking rather owlish behind his round glasses - which Luna found rather appropriate given their location in the Owlry ( _yet again_ ). It seemed safer, somehow, to speak with the so many sharp-eared and eyed companions acting as lookouts.   
  
“You’ll really just go with me?” he asked after a prolonged pause during which Luna had gone back to studying the many winged occupants of the room. “After everything this week - with Cho and the other girls - it was really just that simple all along?” he gave a huff and let himself collapse, with his back against the stone wall again. “When Hermione got all upset at Ron earlier, I thought this must be some girl thing I didn’t get.”  
  
Luna stayed silent for a moment because she knew the real reason for Hermione declining the youngest Weasley boy - but had been asked to keep it secret. The curly haired Gryffindor girl had come up to Ginny and her in the hallway a few days ago after classes and grabbed her arm, towing them along to an empty classroom, before her news had exploded out of her. Hermione's nervous excitement had been palpable ( _a bright grin alight on her face and sudden hand motions with every statement_ ) as she had told them how the Bulgarian young man had asked her to the dance.   
  
( _And from Ginny’s mutterings earlier, her brother’s way of asking Hermione today had also left much to be desired. But she had never been close to Ron - Luna knew he found her odd and he had often wished to avoid associating with Ginny and her, when they were all growing up._ )   
  
She finally looked down from the ceiling again and tilted her head back towards Harry. Admittedly she was a bit confused by his reaction as well. And her Sisters were little help: some giggled at the idea of going to a dance with a _boy_ \- forgetting for some reason that this wasn’t a _boy_ this was _Harry_. Others were hesitant knowing that this would take her more into the open - that people would pay more attention to her once she had been singled out as connected to the Boy Who Lived. Many simply didn’t know any better than her - had never been in anything close to this sort of situation in their short lives as Slayers.   
  
“Why wouldn’t I go to the Yule Ball with you, Harry? It’s not as if anyone else asked me first and I don’t have any other pressing engagements,” Luna simply teased instead, shrugging off her own rolling emotions inside and flicking a bit of hay at him.  
  
And the bit of levity worked, Harry finally quirked a smile at her, losing his earlier stress. “So you can manage to write me in?” he bantered back.  
  
“Oh,” she hummed airily, gazing back up into the rafters again, enjoying the effect of the hazy sunlight through the dust motes. “I think I can manage for you, Harry. I have such few friends with hair that is more attractive for nesting wrackspurt than mine.”  
  
He had instantly raised his hands to his (as always, messy) dark locks at her words but then stopped short when he noticed her, ill-hidden, grin and realized she was still just teasing him. He glared half heartedly at her but was smiling too - that expression slid from his face suddenly though, as if something seemed to occur to him.   
  
“Do you have a dress - or whatever else girls need for this thing,” his hand flapped up and own as he gestured vaguely to the side. “I know I haven’t given you much warning,” he grimaced guiltily.   
  
“No, I honestly didn’t think I would be going and it wasn’t on the list for my Year,” she agreed patting his hand to stop it from moving so (and upsetting the owls) when he started to look worried again she continued before he could say anything. “I can get a gown from town though. I know Professor Flitwick will allow an older student to accompany me if I explain it to him.” She smiled conspiratorially. “He rather likes me you know.”  
  
“Which student?” Harry asked curiously.   
  
“Padma,” Luna responded, with very little hesitation.   
  
“You know Parvati’s sister?” he was obviously rather surprised at this.  
  
She nodded, “Yes; our Fathers are very good friends and it connects us in a way as well. I know that she will help me - she likes this sort of thing. I’m rather bad at it honestly.”   
  
“Me too,” Harry admitted. “It's all a mess. They’re trying to teach us dance and it’s going horribly.”  
  
“Oh, I can dance,” Luna smiled brightly. “I was talking about clothing - I never quite got the hang of dressing nicely. Fashion, matching, and all that. I can help out with our dancing if you like.”  
  
“You might have to lead then,” Harry admitted.   
  
( _Hazel gasps in a scandalized manner at this and the other’s make fun of their fellow Slayer for her dramatic reaction._ )  
  
“We’ll manage,” she says assuredly.  
  
“With our hair nests?” he asks playfully as Hedwig sternly hoots a warning and they both stand up, starting towards the exit.  
  
“Wackspurts bring good luck you know,” she says as seriously as possible. “And they are quite nice about the tangles when you think about it - their nesting makes your hair fluffy instead of all knotted up. Like a kneazle kitten.” Penelope Clearwater, who is passing to mail a letter, gives them a confused look and Harry snorts with, barely contained, laughter.  
  
  
**  
  
As she told Harry, Luna, knows she is not good at clothing. Doesn’t really even understand the point of matching - likes things that are bright, patterns that clash and swirl or simply have the embroidery of magical creatures or runes on them. She does not really think this way she usually goes about choosing garments is completely appropriate for a formal occasion.  
  
She could ask Ginny to help her with these things, but her dear friend was asked by Neville over a week ago, Owled home, and already has her own dress squared away. ( _Likewise, Fleur and Hermione - newer female acquaintances she has started to grow close to - are older and have had theirs picked out quite some time ago, as well._ ) And also, Ginny, - self admittedly - is not an expert at all of this herself, either. Her red headed best friend is a tomboy who grew up with an entire pack of older brothers. Lovely clothing was never the priority.  
  
( _And her Sisters are of too many diverse opinions to be of much help - they came from many regions, over multiple centuries. Their tastes rarely match up and often lead to mental bickering that just gives her a headache._ )  
  
And anyway, it is easier for Professor Flitwick to explain away allowing Luna this trip ( _which Luna already knows he is prone to do anyway - he seems to be fond of both Luna the Slayer and Luna the Ravenclaw student_ ) when she is accompanied by a student that is within her House, older than her, and rather known for not getting into any sort of trouble.  
  
Padma fits that bill rather well. The only problem is in asking her; it is not that Luna thinks she will refuse - the quieter twin is very kind ( _they both are, really - especially when they are together_ ), it is more that she is very _particular_. Something Luna had learned to navigate rather quickly when they visited each others’ homes growing up. The Patil’s place being one of the warded spots that her parents trusted her safety on.  
  
Because wheras Parvati was outgoing, Padma was withdrawn - often the Gryffindor twin would play up this aspect of herself to deflect away from her sister, because she knew how much she hated attention. How badly she did in any sort of crowds - _any sort._   
  
Within the Ravenclaw dorms she had her own dorms, simply because she could not function otherwise. In classes she sat by herself and only really worked - or spoke - with others if it was necessary to pair up. And then that must be someone she knew, and that person would have to stay the same throughout her time at Hogworts.  
  
Thing were a bit easier for Padma at home, she functioned _far_ better with her family, would open up around the people she had known her entire life and seemed to become an almost completely different person from the one seen in Hogwarts. But even then it was usually best to be one on one. Or rather two on one - because her sister was the exception. They almost seemed to balance each other. Parvati acting as a sort of buffer for Padma and Padma grounding Parvati’s flightiness. Padma pushing her twin to study more, and Parvati making sure Padma didn’t become a complete hermit amidst her books.   
  
And although Parvati might seem a social butterfly, she would always ignore Owls in favor of spending time with her sister and family, seemed to recognize her need for the connection with her sister as much (or more) than Padma did. Was a bit lost ( _as far as she could judge - and Luna freely admitted that being in a different House and not in frequent contact she was not a good judge of such things_ ) in Gryffindor on her own. In fact both sisters seemed to fall into worse habits when separated during the school year: Padma more isolated, became quieter and quieter, and Parvati seemed much more shallow and concerned with gossip than she ever was at home.  
  
The Lovegood’s had always been included in the Patil’s circle of family (and vice versa) - because of the close friendship between Xeno Lovegood and Madhukar Patil, the twins and Luna had been a bit like cousins growing up. Both girls taking to the idea of having this younger relation to dote over, teach, and gently tease.   
  
So, she knows, full well that Padma will want to help her - it is more the fact that they will be going into town, where there are lots of people. And this is perhaps where it _helps_ a bit that Harry asked her with so little time left, that she is stuck mid week and not on a busy weekend, with crowds of students and regular shoppers. On a Tuesday perhaps they will find the shopkeep and one or two other browsers in each establishment, but no where near the hustle and bustle of the normal Hogsmead weekend.  
  
She finds her fellow Ravenclaw, _unsurprisingly_ , in the Library. But what _is_ surprising is the way Padma is ignoring the book in front of her completely as her dark eyes ( _looking superstitiously up from under her eyelashes_ ) follow the path of a very tall, studious looking boy from Drumstrang, that is only just leaving her table.   
  
Inwardly, Luna raises her eyebrows at these uncharacteristic signs of interest. There are various encouragements for the girl who is basically her cousin from the Slayers - grins, giggles, and wolf whistles alike. Some even yell out variations upon, “Go get 'em, Padma!” as if they can actually be heard by anyone other than herself. And Luna thinks, not for the first time, what a strange and chaotic place her brain is to inhabit.  
  
Shaking her head slightly, she continues to walk up to the older girl. And, just as she had thought, Padma is quick to agree. Wishes to leave right away, in fact, - get there and back, with plenty of time to spare, before dinner.  
  
And since Luna already asked Flitwick right after her last class, and has their passes on hand for the gate, they only have to grab cloaks before they amble off to town. No one even stops to check them - but, then again, being amongst the two less argumentative Houses, it was not unusual for trusted Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff students to be used as couriers for things teachers needed from town that might be jostled a bit by Owl post.  
  
Padma is quiet until they pass through the gate and are away from Hogworts by a ways - her shoulders seeming to visibly untense as they walk on the path towards the town. Luna does not mind though, she simple breathes the chill air deeply into her lungs and hums to herself.  
  
When they reach the edges of the town, Padma pauses - but Luna simply links arms with her, and she takes a deep breath, nods, and they continue.   
  
Happily, the town seems relatively deserted. And as they go from one shop to the next, and this becomes apparent, her fellow Ravenclaw seems to brighten get truly in the spirit of things. And it is in the third shop they go into, a vintage place tucked away from the main area, that they finally find her a dress Padma is happy with.   
  
It is a flapper dress in style - originally made perhaps for a woman taller than her, so it is slightly long - the fringe starting only a few inches above her knees. Luna is simply pleased that her dress is to be her favorite color: _yellow._ Well alright, not _quite._ It is a lovely deep golden color that reminds her of warmly polished wood.   
  
Padma tugs on it here and there, frets that it has little decoration - or fit in the bodice - that it does not show off her “figure”. Luna refrains from mentioning that as a rather underdeveloped 13 year old who spends a great deal of her nights running around the Forest, she doesn’t really have one yet ( _she is actually slightly surprised that the length and sleeveless nature of the gown shows the slight muscle tone of her body that her uniform usually hides_ ). And anyway, she is too pleased to join her House-mate in fretting because the entire skirt from her hips down, have a layer of tan and gold beads that hang over top it, and when she twirls around, the strands of beads flare out like sun rays away from the main body of the golden dress.   
  
It makes her want to do it again and again. And so she does: twirling around on one foot like a barefoot ballerina and - the shopkeep ( _a middle aged woman, who has been watching them out of the the corner of her eye the entire time, at first careful, but the amused_ ) giggles, but it is not an unkind sound, and when Luna stops her rotation with a flourish she smiles widely back at her, laughing simply for the joy of it.   
  
Padma shakes her head, but then just spontaneously hugs her. When they break apart again, says, "Well, I suppose we’re getting that one then."   
  
It is on the way back, happily buoyed by their find, that ( _arms looped together again, dress in a special bag over her free one_ ) Padma whispers to Luna about the boy.   
  
“He’s from Drumstang - and doesn’t speak much English. That school is actually quite diverse with the students they send letters to - the number of languages spoken there. And Espen is Norwegian,” the other girl shook her head and sighed, seemingly becoming frustrated at herself for getting sidetracked, she pulled at her braid a bit in agitation. “You know how I am Luna, I don’t usually let anyone near me while I’m studying - even Parvati tends to stay away. But - well, his arms were full of books and the Library was full that day too. My table is all the way in the corner and most people don’t even notice it. I was a bit startled to even have someone talking to me - most know not to at this point - but I could tell from the tone and gestures what he was asking even though I didn’t understand the words….”  
  
“..and so..I let him sit next to me,” she blushed a bit. “I tried to just ignore him and get through that day - and he didn’t try to bother me either so it wasn't too hard. And so I thought that would be it. But he came over again only days after that - when the Library wasn’t full.”  
  
“And - and I let him sit next to me again,” she bit her lip this time, looking confused yet pleased. “He didn’t sit too close - so I wasn’t uncomfortable. And stayed quiet so I could study too. It was actually kind of nice, the company. And then he told me his name - and, well....we don't "talk" much but between studying sometimes we smile at each other or try to communicate through gestures a a bit. Latin seems to be the one common language we've found - but neither of us know _that_ completely either," she gave a bark of a laugh ”just the bits from our spellwork and that isn't very conversational."  
  
The Slayers in her mind were cooing and awing over this, but Luna was concerned with something else. “But why does this make you _sad_ , Padma?” she asked just as softly as her companion had been speaking. Because she knew this girl well, could see that emotion hidden, not very well, even as she took joy in this.  
  
“Because I think I _do_ like him,” Padma admitted very lowly, “and he _seems_ to like me as well - although it is hard to be sure when we share neither a language nor any sort of social grace,” she snorted. “But what I _do_ know is my twin - and Parvati has been planning something. Something to do with that blasted Ball,” her nose scrunched up in irritation. And I definitely _don’t_ want to go to that. But it is hard to deflect my dear sister, when she has her mind set, on such things when I am not…”  
  
“Otherwise engaged,” Luna said helpfully in her most haughty, diplomatic manner.  
  
Padma just grinned fondly down at Luna, and leaned against her in a sort of hug as they were still walking. “I don’t want to go to the dance though - that is not the sort of "engagement" I’m not aiming for. I like our quiet companionship in the Library - but I would like a bit of solidity of understanding between us,” she admitted. “Because I do like Espen.”  
  
“I can help,” Luna offered.  
  
“What?” Padma asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.  
  
They were reaching the castle gates so she made sure her voice was even lower as she said, “I know a bit of Swedish because it’s the expedition site for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack,” used to the Lovegoods, the other girl didn’t even blink at this. “Daddy and I have been that way quite often. It isn’t Norwegian but the base language is close and I would be happy to work as an intermediary if you want to try and explain things to Espen.”  
  
This was true of course - but backing up this knowledge was a Slayer who knew (what was now thought of as) Old Norse, fluently. Luna rather hoped not to have to fall to that help - the language was bound to have changed drastically since then. But she would flounder along for Padma.   
  
The girl in question had stayed silent since the offer. And as they walked through the gates and into Hogwarts - showing McGonagall their passes. It wasn’t until they were walking past the Library, and she craned her neck to peek in, that she spoke up.  
  
Releasing her bit lip, she asked, “Would you mind, Luna?”  
  
Luna just smiled softly, shifted her dress bag comfortably on her arm, and said, “You're family, Padma.” 


End file.
